The War in the Woods
by bloodwrites
Summary: Warning: Spoilers for Season 4. Sweets decides the team needs to re-bond, so he signs everyone up for an Outward Bound course. Booth without a gun, Cam without clean underthings, and Bones without... well, bones.
1. Chapter 1

__

Not even January yet and I'm already tired of the snow – I thought a summer fic would be just the thing to lift the winter doldrums, if only temporarily. I also wanted to try an experiment, so each day of the Outward Bound course will be told from the perspective of a different Bones character.

_Disclaimer: I own none of the wonderful folk from Bones; no ownership implied nor copyright infringement intended. _

* * *

Day One: Sweets

Sweets arrived at the lab at five fifty-six that morning, packed and ready to go. He wore windpants and a nylon jersey topped with a Gore-tex windbreaker, and had been particularly pleased to dig out the Australian bush hat he'd worn on his last Outward Bound course. He knew from experience that the Maine sun could be brutal in July, especially on the ocean, so he wanted to set a good example for the others by being completely prepared.

Inside the Jeffersonian, Dr. Saroyan, Hodgins, and Angela had already arrived. Dr. Saroyan looked as though she'd just stepped out of an Urban Outfitters catalog, wearing new river shorts, hiking boots, a jaunty Jacaru hat, and a form-fitting top that left little to the imagination. She leaned against the wall with coffee in hand and her eyes half-closed; Sweets noted that she definitely did not look particularly thrilled about their impending adventure.

If Camille appeared less than thrilled, Angela was simply comatose. The artist sat with her head on her desk, a steaming cup of coffee beside her. When the psychologist greeted everyone pleasantly, she sat up and directed her glare his way.

"Don't even start," she said with a glower.

Hodgins, at least, seemed enthusiastic. Looking casually confident and ready for anything, he came over to Sweets and said without even attempting to lower his voice,

"Watch it – Angela's not a morning person."

The subject of their conversation said nothing, but her expression was more than enough to convey her thoughts. Sweets decided it would definitely be wisest to give Angela her space, and returned his attention to Jack.

"I take it Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan haven't arrived yet," he said, already knowing the answer.

Hodgins shook his head. "I haven't seen 'em – I'm sure they'll be along sooner or later. Brennan didn't sound all that thrilled about this whole week in the woods scheme you cooked up, though."

Sweets raised his eyebrows innocently. "It wasn't just me – I discussed this with Dr. Saroyan, and we agreed that with everything that's happened here recently, the entire team is in need of some time away from the office. It was ultimately Dr. Saroyan's decision, not mine."

Camille looked up at this. "Oh yeah, blame it on me," she said dryly. "Look, all I know is that one of our best and brightest just turned out to be a cannibalistic serial killer's apprentice, and this little break-up between Angela and Jack means half my team isn't communicating with the other half, and last week I got a call telling me that Agent Booth was having a nervous breakdown in the middle of Piccadilly freakin' Circus."

Hodgins didn't seem at all disturbed by his supervisor's diatribe – in fact, the man seemed almost jubilant.

"Well, what're you gonna do - desperate times call for desperate measures. So if that means we have to stay on a deserted island on the coast of Maine together for eight days… Well, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Angela shot her former fiancé a withering glance that definitely did not escape Sweets' attention. So, there it was in a nutshell: Jack saw this as an opportunity for reconciliation, while Angela viewed the week as awkward and potentially painful. Sweets almost rubbed his hands together at the thought of all the emotional turmoil ahead.

It was nearly seven o'clock by the time Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth arrived. Booth had been the one driving – which meant he was the one responsible for their tardiness, Sweets realized. Already trying to control the situation, the psychologist thought ruefully, and they weren't even out of D.C. yet. The FBI agent wore jeans and a sweatshirt, topped by a baseball cap, none of which were recommended on the Outward Bound packing list Sweets had provided for him.

"Hey, Sweets – sorry we're late," Booth said breezily. "Bones here wasn't ready when I showed up."

She looked at him indignantly. "That's not true! You didn't arrive until six-thirty – and then you said we probably didn't really need to be here until ten, but Sweets told us earlier because he's – "

"Whoa, Bones!" Booth grabbed his partner, gently putting his hand over her mouth and pulling her aside.

Sweets knew he should be irritated, but realistically he'd expected nothing less from the pair. Besides which, having an opportunity to observe them outside their comfort zone over the next eight days more than made up for the stunts Booth would invariably try in an effort to win the upper hand.

"So," Sweets said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "We're all here – we're all packed. You guys look pumped, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't genuinely looking forward to the journey we're about to embark on."

Angela still hadn't picked her head up from her desk, while Dr. Saroyan shot him a withering glance and Dr. Brennan began walking toward her office.

"I can't go," the anthropologist said, not even looking up from a file she was reading.

At her friend's words, Angela finally sat up. "If she's not going, I'm _definitely _not going."

Dr. Saroyan snapped to attention. "Oh – believe me, she's going."

Dr. Brennan stopped walking and turned to address her supervisor. Sweets noted with interest the way that both women stood to their full height, though Temperance had her arms crossed over her chest while Camille's hands were on her hips. Clearly the dominant female, he mused.

"No – I can't. I have cases waiting."

"We all have cases waiting, Dr. Brennan," Camille returned evenly. "This is mandatory."

"Well, I don't see why – " she uncrossed her arms, taking a step forward with her own hands on her hips now. Camille didn't shift position, however. Sweets was impressed – in the animal kingdom, she would clearly be alpha.

"The whole thing is absurd," Temperance continued. "With Zack gone, we're completely backlogged – and they choose now to make us go off to the middle of nowhere and talk about our feelings?" She looked to Booth for support. "It's ridiculous. I'm not going."

Booth nodded, but stopped short of coming to her defense at a look from Camille.

"It is – yeah, I agree. But look at it this way: eight days of fresh air and relaxation in the beautiful state of Maine. Lobster, sailboats…" he paused, apparently having run out of selling points.

Sweets felt obliged to intervene at the picture Booth was painting.

"I want to remind everyone that this isn't actually a vacation. This is an opportunity for us to rebuild the trust that was lost after Zack's arrest; for us to reconnect and debrief."

"And eat lobster," Booth added.

Temperance didn't move, her arms crossed once more over her chest and her jaw set stubbornly. Camille picked up her duffel bag and addressed the group.

"All right – the van's waiting. Let's get this show on the road." She turned to Temperance and Booth pointedly. "I'll see you out there – van's leaving in five minutes."

"Then it's leaving without me," Temperance replied. Before Camille could respond, Sweets saw the look that passed between her and Booth.

"Just give us a sec, Cam – we'll be right there."

Dr. Saroyan left but Sweets lingered, watching with interest when Booth approached his partner.

"C'mon, Bones – you're not getting out of this one."

"I don't know why you're so psyched out to go – "

"Psyched _up, _Bones – it's psyched _up. _And I'm not all that psyched, to be honest. But think about it: eight days with no one shooting at us, no having to tell some poor schmuck his wife's never comin' home, no picking through blood and guts trying to find an actual person underneath. It's summer. It's Maine." He bumped his shoulder against hers, and Sweets couldn't contain his smile when she grudgingly returned the gesture. "It'll be fun."

"I do love the ocean," she finally admitted.

Booth grinned, putting his arm around his partner's shoulders. "See! That's the spirit. It'll do you good to get away from here."

He picked up her backpack as well as his own, pausing to call over his shoulder as they were leaving.

"Hey, Sweets – you comin' or what? This was your genius idea – get a move on, wouldja?"

Sweets grabbed his backpack with a grin. It promised to be a fascinating week.

* * *

They all sat together on the flight to Maine – Camille and Hodgins in one row, Booth and Brennan in the next, and Sweets and Angela behind them. Sweets noted that Jack was clearly disappointed not to be sitting with Angela, but the scientist wisely said nothing. Booth and Dr. Brennan argued over who got the window seat (Booth eventually won), while Jack gallantly gave his up for Camille.

Sweets turned to Angela once they were seated. She had out her sketch pad, and was drawing rough composite sketches of the passengers in the next aisle.

"So, Angela – " he began, but she stopped him with a look.

"Oh, we're not talking – I can't _believe _you did this."

He raised his eyebrows. "Did what?" he asked innocently.

"_This._" She made a sweeping gesture with one hand, which seemed to encompass the plane, the passengers, and possibly the larger world outside. Apparently, Sweets was responsible for all of it. "This stupid trip. Booth might think we're headed for some old time lobster bake, but I know all about Outward Bound. No showers. No toilets. No solitude – and Jack and me, alone in the woods for eight freakin' days."

"And you think that might be an issue for you?"

She turned on him – he was caught between being clinically fascinated and being… well, kind of turned on.

"Look, Sweets – don't play your little psycho games with me. The break-up sucked, okay? Losing Zack sucked. The past two months have basically sucked. So no, I don't want to go into the woods and get in touch with my pain while my ex-fiance looks on, just waiting to pick up the pieces."

Sweets nodded, attempting to maintain a balance between compassion and clinical detachment.

"Just give it a chance, okay? You might be surprised at what you learn."

She rolled her eyes, returning to her sketchpad without another word. Rather than pushing her any further, Sweets took out his iPod, put in his headphones, and closed his eyes.

They were on their way.

When they reached the Portland International Jetport just after noon, Sweets could see the hot air shimmering on the runway. They rented a van (which Booth naturally insisted on driving) and soon were on the highway headed up the coast of Maine. Though Sweets had made the trip many times before and therefore would have been the most logical choice for sitting up front with Booth, that particular honor fell to Dr. Brennan. Sweets was relegated to the back, shouting directions over the air conditioning and the music – both of which Booth was also in charge.

Their schoddy treatment couldn't damper Sweets' enthusiasm, however. He'd been taking Outward Bound courses since he was a kid – in his experience, they were an excellent way to regain balance and strengthen trust among colleagues. Besides which, he had to admit that it would be nice for the team to see him outside the office, in a setting where he could truly shine. About half an hour from their destination, he shouted from the back,

"There's this great café coming up in Thomaston – they make excellent reubens, homemade breads, great vegetarian dishes… We should stop there."

Booth turned down the music, and Sweets heard him address his partner.

"What did he say? Something about a cat up ahead?"

"A café," Brennan corrected him, before Sweets could do so. "He wants us to stop for lunch."

Booth shouted back over his shoulder. "They got lobster there?"

Sweets didn't actually know that they did, for a fact, but it seemed a safe assumption.

"Great lobster," he said. "I always make a point of going before I begin a course. It's a funny story, actually – " but Booth turned the music back up. Dr. Saroyan was asleep, Hodgins was staring at Angela, and Angela was glaring out the window. "And no one's listening to me – why do I even bother speaking, when no one listens?"

From the front, he heard Booth turn to Brennan again. "Is he still talking?" he asked her, but Sweets couldn't hear her answer.

* * *

The café was a success. Hunger sated, they set out on the last leg of their journey. Sweets felt his excitement building – a sense of calm and well-being enveloped him as they traveled the rural routes leading to the Outward Bound base. He stuck his hand out the window, smiling when he could feel the cool ocean breeze and smell the salt in the air.

Everyone was awake now, an undeniable sense of anticipation in the car. When they turned down the private road leading to Wheeler Bay – where the base was located – Sweets couldn't contain a smile when even Angela finally rallied.

"Wow – I've gotta hand it to you, it is really pretty here, Sweets."

They passed the staff house, rounded a bend, and suddenly were met by a coastline of roughly hewn granite, the sea a striking azure blue. Booth drove past the boathouse, where a fleet of pulling boats were docked on the grass, awaiting the next sailing course. A group of ragged teenagers jogged past, soaking wet and laughing loudly. Booth slowed down when a couple of dogs ran by, chasing each other in circles, and Sweets couldn't seem to stop grinning.

Booth parked in a field alongside a number of other cars, and then Sweets had to wait until everyone else had disembarked before he could get out, stretching his long legs gratefully. Though it wasn't the suffocating, wet heat they'd been dealing with in D.C., it was still hot out – it was almost two o'clock, the sun directly overhead and only a slight breeze coming off the water. He glanced around at the others, wondering how they'd handle the run and dip that had launched every Outward Bound course he'd ever taken.

"We just need to check in up ahead," he informed them. "They'll be expecting us."

He paused to address the group. "You know, this place really brings back memories – I can't tell you how many milestones I experienced out on a – "

Booth had already set out, however, with the others not far behind. Sweets brought up the rear, continuing under his breath. "… pulling boat or a kayak. 'Really, Lance?'" he raised his voice an octave to indicate a second speaker. " 'Wow, that's fascinating – you must have some great stories.'" He lowered his voice again, answering his own question. "Now that you mention it, gang – yes, I do have some – "

"What the hell's he doing?" he heard Booth ask Brennan, already well ahead of him. "Sweets," the agent shouted back at him. "Can you finish up the heart-to-heart with your imaginary friends on your own time? Let's do this thing already."

Sweets' reception once they reached the main office, at least, was rewarding. A tall, lean, muscular man with a beard – essentially a Norse god, Sweets reflected with no real bitterness – greeted him with a welcoming grin.

"Lance! Hey buddy – good to see you again."

Sweets didn't miss the look that passed between the others in the group when he and the Norse god embraced warmly.

"Hey, Tripp – good to see you too, man. So, are you ready to whip these guys into shape the OB way?"

Tripp nodded readily. "Sure, sure – weather's lookin' sweet for the next week, so we should have a blast." He turned to address the rest of the group. "I'm Tripp Axel – I'll be your instructor for the next week. Now, let's get everybody loaded up and get the show on the road."

He and Sweets led the charge, and the psychologist couldn't help but feel triumphant when – for the first time since he'd begun working with the Jeffersonian – Booth actually followed _him_. Once they were a little out of earshot of the others, he turned to Tripp with what he hoped was a casual air.

"So, who's the second instructor this time out?"

Tripp grinned at him knowingly, laying a heavy arm across his shoulders. "The lovely Belle, of course – couldn't keep her away once she heard you were comin'."

Sweets took a breath and tried to maintain his composure. Life was good.

* * *

"Wait – what do you mean I can't bring my gun?"

Packing was the first challenge. Angela and Camille had balked when they were told they could only bring five pairs of underwear; Temperance threatened mutiny when she learned she'd have to leave her cell phone and laptop behind; and now, Booth was having a minor breakdown at the notion of going into the field unarmed.

"What if I need to shoot someone?" he demanded.

Tripp took the question in stride. "We almost never have to shoot people out here, Seeley. That's what the Coast Guard's for."

Booth didn't get the joke, and he looked none too pleased at being addressed by his first name.

Camille intervened, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Just leave the damned thing, Seeley - if I couldn't bring an extra pair of underwear, chances are they're not gonna let you run around with an arsenal in your backpack."

He looked like he was about to make more of the issue, but then Belle appeared and, magically, everything was fine. If Belle was in a movie, Sweets thought to himself, a swell of music would precede her every entrance. Birds and butterflies would follow her; mice would braid her hair. God, how Sweets loved Belle. She was lean, tanned, blonde; athletic yet graceful; intellectual yet down-to-earth; outdoorsy yet feminine.

She came over and hugged Sweets before she greeted anyone else – Booth stopped arguing and just stared at them, and Sweets was sure it would go down as one of the best moments of his life.

"Hey, Belle – wow, it's really good to see you."

She beamed at him, and it was like the sun was shining on him alone.

"You too, Sweetie – " That was what she'd always called him, and it was entirely possible that Booth would pass out right there. "I've missed you. So, how about you introduce me to the rest of the gang here?"

He did. Booth dropped the issue of his gun, and they went over the rules for the coming week. After that, it was time for the run and dip; Sweets was pleased to note that everyone seemed to get into the spirit, jogging the mile circuit around the camp without complaint before they happily hit the cold Maine water. There was plenty of splashing and laughing, and then a practice run in the kayaks before they would set out in the open ocean the following morning.

That evening, they all sat around a bonfire before heading to bed. Tripp initiated a conversation among everyone, and Sweets was grateful to simply sit back and observe the interaction for the moment.

"So, I want you guys to think about some questions you'd like to know about each other – something you might've wondered about, but for whatever reason just never got around to asking. Before we call it a night, you'll each write down one of those questions and we'll put it in this bag – " he held up a waterproof stuff sack with the Outward Bound logo on it. " – and every night, we'll pull out a different question and answer it. It doesn't have to be a big deal, nothing earth shattering – unless you want it to be… Just something you've always wanted to know."

Sweets looked around the circle at everyone. Booth and Brennan were seated together, as usual, lost in their own discussions with no regard for what was happening around them. Angela was busily sketching, and he was pleased to note that she seemed considerably more at peace than she had before. Camille was keeping a watchful eye on the group, always ready to intervene should anyone step out of line. Hodgins had gone from enthusiastic earlier in the day to considerably more withdrawn now – Sweets suspected that he'd just assumed winning Angela back would be a simple task, but now he was likely realizing that might not be the case.

Belle handed out a piece of paper and pencil to everyone in the group, and Tripp continued talking.

"So, for now let's start with an easy question – just one of your basics. Tell us one thing that none of your colleagues here know about you." He turned to Sweets.

"Lance, you wanna start us off?'

He felt momentarily uncomfortable, but nodded gamely. "Sure – I'll get the ball rolling. Umm… Well, I don't think any of you know that I have a fairly extensive background in musical theatre. As a child, I was actually up for the lead in a professional troupe's production of Oliver – my parents decided it might infringe on my studies, however, so I wasn't able to take the part."

Angela looked up from her drawing. "Well that sucks – were you pissed?"

He was taken aback by the question. "No, of course not. They had a point – I mean, I had a full course load, there was really no time to just take off with no regard for my future."

"Yeah," Booth said dryly. "Think what might've happened if Sweets here hadn't graduated 'til he was fourteen instead of ten."

Sweets blushed, noting that Belle was definitely paying attention to the course of the conversation. Damn, why had he brought this up? "I didn't graduate when I was ten – I took an accelerated course load and graduated a couple of years early. It's not really that uncommon."

Dr. Brennan picked up on that comment, of course. "That's not true. It's actually quite uncommon in this culture – the social stigma and the controversy surrounding emotional maturity versus intellectual knowledge typically prevents parents from allowing their children to progress as rapidly as they might without such concerns. I think it's refreshing that your parents allowed you to excel academically." He was about to thank her, but the sentiment died on his lips at her next words. "Despite your obvious social awkwardness and difficulty relating to those around you, your intellectual prowess is undeniably impressive."

He gave her a shaky smile, focusing his attention on the fire before them. "Thanks, Temperance," he said dryly.

Belle cleared her throat. "Okay, how about we move onto someone else. Temperance, what about you?"

Booth laughed – snorted, actually. "Yeah, Bones… This should be good. Let's hear something I don't already know about you."

She looked at him defensively. "There are lots of things you don't know about me."

Her partner raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. "All right then, let's hear it. The floor's all yours."

She thought for a moment. "Well – when I was ten, I was selected out of – "

"Three thousand other students because of your scores in math and science, and you got to meet the governor," Booth interrupted. "Sorry, Bones – already heard that one. Hit me again."

She looked annoyed, but continued nonetheless. "All right. When I was twelve, I won – "

"Some other governor's award for scientific achievement that usually only goes to high school kids," Booth finished for her. "You're gonna have to do better than that, Bones."

She glared at him, but was clearly engaged in the game. The rest of the group looked on with interest, waiting to see what Brennan would come up with next. After a few seconds of thought, she started again.

"When I was in Venezuela three years ago, I was bitten by what I believed was a rare tropical snake but – "

"But it wasn't a rare tropical snake, it was just a garter snake and it wasn't even poisonous, but your guide still stuck a knife in your foot and sucked all the poison out, just to be on the safe side," Booth finished for her.

She glared at him. Before she could try again, Tripp intervened.

"Maybe we should move onto someone else – or Temperance, you could always just tell a story that only Seeley knows about you."

"No," she said firmly. "Booth, you go. I'm certain there are no stories I don't know about you, either."

"When I was in high school," he said immediately. "I was recruited to play pro hockey – I played a full season before I tore my ACL and got benched."

Brennan stared at him, clearly shocked. "I didn't know that."

He grinned. "I know. Face it, Bones – I'm a man of mystery and you're an open book. That's just the way it goes."

"All right – how about someone else," Belle interrupted, trying to expedite what was rapidly becoming an all night conversation. "Angela, what about you?"

Hodgins came to attention at this, looking across the fire at his ex-fiance. Sweets had to admit that she looked beautiful; her hair was swept up in a loose bun, with dark tendrils curling at her cheeks and jawline, and she wore a long, Bohemian skirt and a pretty peasant blouse, her long legs curled beneath her.

She thought for a moment. "Okay – sure. Well… I didn't say my first words until I was four years old."

Sweets was intrigued immediately. "Really? Four years old? Did your parents have you tested for learning disorders?"

She laughed, apparently dismissing the idea as ridiculous. "Of course not. My father knew I'd come around eventually – he always says he just figured I was waiting 'til I had something to say."

"What was your first word?" Hodgins asked. He looked intrigued – as though this was something of a revelation, but not necessarily all that surprising. Angela smiled at him – an actual smile, as though it was just the two of them around the fire.

"Words, actually – it was a sentence. 'I want to paint that.' My father had an old watering can that he used to keep my blocks in. I remember that I liked the dichotomy of the old, faded watering can and the new, vividly colored blocks of wood. That was my first still life."

Hodgins laughed at this. Sweets watched as their eyes held, Jack breaking the gaze before Angela did. Yeah, it was definitely going to be an interesting week.

"I have one!" Dr. Brennan burst out excitedly. All eyes turned to her, including Booth's. He sat with his head tilted and a cocky smirk on his face, but he said nothing.

"When I was in my twenties, I dated a musician whom I'm told is quite famous now, and though I can't say for a fact that it's true, he did say that one of his more popular songs was written about me."

Booth stared at her, the smirk gone. "You're making that up."

"I am not!" Brennan said immediately, appalled at the allegation.

"Then who is it?"

"I'd rather not say," she said.

Tripp stood before they could continue the argument, with a big yawn and stretch. "All right, guys – Cam and Jack, you mind saving your answers for tomorrow? It's getting pretty late, and we have an early morning and a long, busy day in front of us. You guys ready to hit it?"

The party broke up, and Sweets was grateful to grab his sleeping bag and head for the tent he'd be sharing with the other guys in the group. Just before he dozed off to sleep that night, with Booth on one side of him and Hodgins on the other, he was startled wide awake by Booth hitting him lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey, Sweets – you up?"

He recoiled. "Um – ow?" He glared into the darkness. "I am now. What is it?"

"Do you think Bones really dated a rock star?"

He closed his eyes, unable to keep from smiling. "Go to sleep, Booth. I'm sure Dr. Brennan will tell you all about it in the morning."

There was a pause while Booth seemed to consider the words. "Yeah… You're probably right."

Sweets closed his eyes again, and this time took a moment to listen to the sounds all around: the ocean waves breaking gently on the rocks; the frogs and crickets singing their summer songs; the rhythmic breathing of his comrades on either side. And then, exhausted but undeniably optimistic, Sweets fell asleep.

TBC

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	2. Chapter 2

_Hey all, just wanted to thank everyone for the great comments and insight, I'm really having a great time writing this –it's like a Bonesy summer in my head, all the time!_

* * *

Day Two: Cam

Cam loved the city. The smell of rain on the pavement, the lights, the hustle, the horns – the whole package. And it wasn't just in New York or D.C., either; you could pretty much pick a city, and she could give you something that made it magic. Boston, Phoenix, San Fran, Paris, Rome, London, Tokyo, Berlin… Hell, she'd even been to Detroit and managed to find something charming about the snow and the dirty streets and the old, abandoned factories – like she'd stepped into a scene from the Depression or something. Except, you know, with graffiti and gangs and tripped out Lincoln Navigators.

What Cam didn't love? The woods. For her eighth birthday, her father had decided that a weekend of camping would be the perfect gift; she could remember dreading it for weeks. The night before they were supposed to go, she'd overheard an argument between her parents.

"You take that child into the woods and I'm telling you, she'll be miserable," she heard her mother say. "Cami wasn't born for roughing it – the girl's got better sense than that."

About three hours into their drive deep into the wilds of upstate New York, both of them silent and Cam sitting tensely in the front of their old Plymouth, her father pulled a u-turn and switched direction. Instead of camping, they got a hotel in the city; they caught a show, hit the museums, and even managed to get some quality outdoor time – in Central Park. It was one of her favorite memories of her father.

Something that would _not _go down as a favorite memory? Being woken by a freakishly good looking Norse god ringing a cowbell at five-thirty in the morning. She didn't give a rat's ass how good a man looked in shorts or how mind-blowing he might be in bed, a cowbell before dawn just wasn't worth it.

Still, she was supposed to be in charge and this had, after all, been her idea. Well – technically it was Sweets' idea, but she was the one who pushed the paperwork through and ordered everyone to get their asses into the van. So, she bit her lip to keep from complaining and stumbled out of the tent she was sharing with Angela and Brennan, pausing just long enough to wrestle her hair into a ponytail. It was the woods, and it was five-thirty in the morning, but it was no excuse to let herself go to hell.

The sun hadn't quite passed the horizon yet, but the men – and that chipper little blonde demon, Belle – looked like they'd been up for hours. Cam knew from experience that Seeley was a morning person – just one of about a dozen reasons why they never would have worked out. He wore running shorts that, despite everything, reminded her quite effectively of a few of his assets. Hodgins was a surprise, though – she'd just assumed he wasn't the kind of guy who liked this sort of thing: early mornings, no civilization, an alarming lack of mental stimulation. She'd also assumed he wasn't the kind of guy who looked good out of his coveralls, but apparently she was wrong about that, too - he wore cargo shorts and a form fitting blue t-shirt, and there was no way in hell she was prepared for Jack Hodgins to have gorgeous calves and a ripped upper body.

She decided she'd stepped into an alternate universe. A very cold, drizzly, gray alternate universe. Jack, Seeley, Sweets, Tripp, and Belle were all running in place like hyperactive chimpanzees. With great restraint, Cam swallowed about half a dozen biting comments and managed a smile.

"Okay. So – running. Before dawn." She took a breath. "How fun."

Angela followed her outside the tent looking murderous. "Where's the coffee?" she managed.

Jack had a cup ready, which he thrust into her waiting hand without a word. Cam had the sense the same scene had played out between the two of them before.

Dr. Brennan emerged next. One side of her hair was standing on end, but she still managed to look annoyingly good. Her attitude was better than Angela's, but it definitely didn't match the men's level of enthusiasm.

"We're running again?" she asked Cam. "But we did that yesterday."

Cam shrugged. "Apparently, running is a daily form of torture here."

Of course, Seeley was oblivious to everyone else as soon as he caught sight of his partner. Which was fine, of course. Okay, once upon a time Cam had been a little annoyed about the whole "Bones/Booth" phenomenon, basically dismissing Brennan as an overachieving, socially inept lab rat with the emotional depth of a wet towel. But all that changed about the time Brennan laid her partner out at his alleged funeral. If a woman could generate that kind of passion, there was clearly some potential.

Seeley jogged up to his partner with a grin and a cup of coffee, which she accepted without acknowledging.

"How long have you been awake?" Cam heard her ask him.

He shrugged. "I don't know – about half an hour, I guess. We heard the granola squad rustlin' around out here, figured we'd come check it out."

She stared at him blankly. "Granola squad – I don't know what that means."

Cam rolled her eyes and decided it was probably best to focus on something else. Like getting herself some coffee, since it seemed that no one was gonna be laying any at _her_ feet anytime soon. Before she'd gotten more than a mouthful of the strongest, most wretched stuff she'd ever tasted, however, Tripp was up and at 'em again.

"Okay, gang – this is the way our mornings will be starting for the next week. You guys ready to run?"

The men (and Belle) responded with a raucous, "Yeah!" Angela was curled up in the fetal position hiding her head in her arms, while Brennan was off to the side of the campsite, crouched over something Cam couldn't quite make out, poking at it with a stick. Cam sighed. So, clearly it was up to her. She took a deep breath, forced her eyes wide open, and took in the world around them.

Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was gray, and disturbingly quiet and completely devoid of ethnic diversity. But, the way the fog came up off the water was definitely pretty, and the smell of salt and pine needles in the air was undeniably appealing. It was time to rally.

"All right, ladies," she shouted to Angela and Brennan. "We're runnin'."

They ran the same mile-long circuit they'd done the day before. Booth and Hodgins were obviously racing – which was pathetic – while Sweets was clearly holding back so that Belle could keep pace with him. Angela and Brennan brought up the rear, talking more than they ran, and Cam was pleasantly surprised to find herself keeping company alongside Tripp.

"So, Cam," he said, loud enough that everyone could hear. "We didn't get to hear about that one thing no one knows about you, last night."

She'd actually been thinking about that one for a while – ever since the question came up. There was a line here that she definitely didn't want to cross; trust among colleagues was all well and good, but the last thing she wanted was to compromise her position of authority. The problem, as she saw it, was that most of the quasi-personal things she would tell anyone here, were things Seeley already knew. So, she'd finally come up with something that was personal, but not so personal that no one would ever look at her the same way.

"Well…" she said, barely winded from the light pace they were keeping (thank god for spinning class, she thought to herself). "I paid most of my undergrad tuition with money I made in a band."

Seeley turned around and ran backward for a few seconds, his eyebrows up just a hair when he looked at her. "Really? You never told me that."

She shrugged, pleased with his response.

"What'd you play?" Sweets asked immediately.

"Bass," she said, slightly uncomfortable now that it seemed everyone was watching her. "So, Jack," she raised her voice to get his attention, now that he was leading the pack. "What about you? We never got to hear about your little secret history."

Before he could respond, however, they reached the end of the run – which meant it was time for the dip. Cam had been a lifeguard once upon a time, so it's not like she had a problem with the water. But this wasn't exactly the swimming pool at the Y. It was high tide, the sea water now deep and dark and _cold, _lapping menacingly at the edges of the dock. Apparently, Outward Bound didn't believe in easing into anything – it was all about the shock factor; no dipping a toe in first or getting acclimated to the temperature.

Hodgins and Booth both stripped down to their shorts and raced off the dock, doing cannonballs to see who could make the bigger splash. Belle just kind of hopped in, and then Sweets – stripped down now to pink shorts that made him look strikingly similar to a flamingo with those long, skinny legs of his – was showing off, pretending to lean up against a railing that wasn't there. He went in with a splash and a holler, and then it was up to the women (and Tripp, who looked like he was prepared for some kind of meltdown).

Definitely not gonna happen. Without ceremony, Cam stripped down to her bathing suit, took a deep breath, and jumped in.

To the coldest water in the history of the world. No joke. There'd never been colder water than this. Finland? Iceland? Those weird polar bear clubs where people went swimming in the middle of winter? This was _their _gig, not Cam's. Gasping, she treaded water and waited to see if anyone was getting out yet. But apparently, it was bad protocol to get out before everyone was in.

And Angela and Brennan weren't in yet.

Angela was freaking out. Not a lot, but she was doing that stubborn thing with her eyebrows up and her jaw set, her arms crossed over her chest – that kind of bitchy look the artist almost never got, but Cam recognized it because she got it herself sometimes. The look that said, "Don't fuck with me, because I will eat you alive. And then pick my teeth with your bones."

Tripp was about to say something, but to Cam's surprise, Brennan intervened. She was dying to hear what the women were saying, but couldn't make out a word over her own chattering teeth. A minute or two later, though, Angela looked more relaxed. The women stood together at the edge of the dock, looked at each other, and held hands. Brennan was grinning, not a trace of fear in her eyes, but Angela didn't look happy – she closed her eyes tightly, the entire group counted to three, and they were in. It wasn't a big thing, but the intimacy of it just kind of hit Cam wrong – she got this weight in her chest, and she didn't know why but in that second all she could think of was Zack.

It was just a flash, but it was enough to bring tears to her eyes and make her dunk her head underwater, just to get herself back in the game. Everyone here had their own language, their own history – they got each other, belonged together. Hell, between her and Seeley, and Seeley and Brennan, and Hodgins and Angela, it was definitely the most incestuous office she'd ever worked in. But Zack was hers. He and Brennan had their moments, he and Jack had their experiments, but Cam just felt like she'd had a connection with Zack – like he was the wildly out-of-touch little brother she'd never had.

She climbed back up on the dock ringing wet and freezing to death, goosebumps forming on her dark skin, her nipples so tight it felt like they were trying to climb inside her body for warmth, cold ocean water pooling at her feet. Seeley was hopping in place beside Brennan, and he took his towel and started drying her hair with it until she was laughing and grumbling and trying to push him away all at once. Jack took his own towel and wrapped it around Angela without a word, but Cam didn't miss the look of understanding that passed between them. Sweets and Belle were already headed back to the tents, deep in conversation, so Cam dried herself off, gathered her things, and followed them. Alone.

* * *

Before long, everyone was dried off and re-dressed and had eaten some kind of horrible granola gruel thing that reassured Cam that, at the very least, she wouldn't have to worry about packing on the pounds this week… After that, it was time to set out on expedition. They carried the kayaks to the boat launch, then Belle took center stage to explain how it would all work.

"So, like we all learned yesterday, these are tandem kayaks – which means you'll be partnered up and you and your partner will work as a team over the course of each day's expedition."

Booth took a step toward Brennan, making it pretty clear that he wanted them to be partners. Brennan looked hesitantly at Angela, who Cam guessed had probably already foreseen this. Luckily, though, so had the instructors.

"Rather than having you guys kind of stick with the people you're most comfortable with, we're gonna mix things up a little."

Tripp took off his Outward Bound hat, and handed everyone a scrap of paper and a pencil.

"Just write your name on the paper, and we'll choose this way each morning," Tripp said, interrupting before Booth could protest. "This way, everyone should get a chance to work with everyone else and you have an opportunity to really get to know everyone on the team."

Cam groaned inwardly when it was her time to choose. She actually liked everyone here, so it wasn't like it would be a big deal working with anyone, as long as she didn't get –

"Dr. Brennan," she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice as she read the scrap of paper in her hand.

Seeley and Jack were also paired together, which left Sweets and Angela. Cam consoled herself with the knowledge that no one else was happy with the pairings for the day, either. Brennan started to object, but wisely stopped at a look Cam didn't miss from Seeley.

Once everyone was standing beside the right kayak, suited up and ready to hit the water, Tripp resumed the instruction.

"Now, we learned yesterday that when you're in a tandem kayak, both members of the team are crucial."

"That isn't correct," Brennan said immediately, missing the point entirely. "The person in the back is the one responsible for steering as well as the one with the most control in terms of moving the kayak forward. Technically speaking, a tandem kayak would function just fine with only one person seated at the stern, but navigating with a single kayaker in the bow would be almost impossible."

Tripp nodded patiently. Gorgeous, and a saint to boot. "Well, yes – you're correct to an extent, Temperance. But the person in the front is the one who guides the team through whatever's up ahead, whether its shallows or seaweed or a rocky shoreline. And believe me, having a second body to help with the physical act of paddling is huge once you start racking up the miles the way we're gonna this week."

"Yes, but you said – "

Booth cut her off. "You're right, okay Bones? The person in the back's got all the control. Doesn't change the fact that you still need to go somewhere and it would suck paddling alone. It's called teamwork."

She seemed to accept this, and Cam had to restrain herself from sighing out loud in relief. Thank god for Seeley Booth.

Once that had been resolved, Cam turned to Brennan and the two women said at exactly the same time,

"I'll take the back."

Hodgins and Booth were having the same argument the next kayak over. In fact, it seemed like Angela was the only person who didn't want to steer. She and Sweets figured things out immediately, and were happily chatting away while the remaining four argued.

Finally, Tripp intervened between Cam and Brennan while Belle talked to Hodgins and Booth.

"So," Tripp said. "Why don't we just flip a coin to see who goes where?"

Brennan looked like she might have a problem with this plan as well, but after a second or two shrugged.

"Fine."

Tripp smiled. "Okay – Cam, why don't you call it?"

"Wait, why does she get to – " Brennan objected. Before the nightmare could continue, Cam held up her hand.

"You call it then, I really don't care."

Brennan nodded, appearing honestly pleased at the concession.

"Heads," she said promptly.

The coin went into the air, flipping gracefully before Tripp caught it and slapped it onto his tanned, muscular forearm.

"Tails it is," he announced after a second.

Brennan looked mortified. "Wait – I meant to say tails."

"It's not a big deal, Brennan," Cam assured her. "We're a team – "

"Well, then, why don't you sit in front and let me steer?"

Tripp shook his head, before the argument could start all over again. "Sorry, Temperance – that's just the way it goes sometimes."

* * *

"There are rocks up ahead – paddle left, paddle left!" Brennan was shouting over her shoulder, intense as ever.

"How far up ahead?" Cam asked calmly, because she'd learned after two hours steering with Brennan that it was best not to panic about these kinds of things.

"About fifty yards," the anthropologist told her.

Cam nodded. "Okay. Then in about forty yards, I'll start paddling left. For now, we're probably all right."

Hodgins and Booth weren't faring any better. Even though Booth was in charge, every so often Cam would hear Hodgins say,

"Rocky shoals aft, rocky shoals aft!" to which Seeley would shout,

"I told you – right or left? Right or left! You're just doin' that to piss me off."

They started the day out by paddling along the coastline, but by early afternoon – with the fog cleared and the sun high in the sky – they hit the open ocean. Their goal was Hurricane Island, apparently a good ten miles from Wheeler Bay. Luckily, there was no wind and the seas were calm, so they had that going for them. And again, it was definitely pretty. Not as pretty as, say, Fifth Avenue around Christmas or Paris just after a spring rain… But it was pretty.

Once they'd settled into a rhythm, she shouted up to Brennan in the bow in an attempt to start a conversation.

"So, Temp – uh, Brennan. How did you get Angela to jump this morning?"

She turned her head slightly, and Cam was relieved to find a smile there instead of that perplexed look she usually got when she was asked a question.

"I said I'd tell her which musician I dated," she shouted.

That got Booth's attention – a minute later, he and Jack pulled their kayak up alongside Cam and Brennan's, paddling slightly ahead so that Booth and Brennan were side by side.

"You can't tell her something like that before you tell your partner."

The perplexed look returned. "Why not?"

"Because it's not what partners do, Bones. I tell you stuff, you tell me stuff. That's the way it works."

"You didn't tell me about playing professional hockey," Brennan pointed out.

"C'mon, Bren," Jack piped up. "Maybe Cam knows the guy, since she was a big time rock star herself back in the day."

"I never said I was a big time rock star," Cam said loudly. "I said I put myself through college playing bass."

Angela and Sweets pulled up on the other side of them.

"Yeah, but I've dated musicians, honey," Angela said. "And I'm sorry – not one of them could pay for dinner with the money they made playing out, forget putting themselves through school."

Sweets nodded. "It's true – there's just not a lot of money in it, unless you're fairly well known. What was the name of the band?"

Why, oh why, had she brought this up? "Phallic Friction," she said quietly. Booth stuck his paddle in the water to stop the kayak so he could be even with her, but since he didn't tell Jack that was what he was doing, it just ended up making their kayak veer violently toward Brennan and Cam's.

Jack turned around. "Booth – what the hell?" he shouted as he quickly straightened them once more, barely avoiding a collision.

"Just hang on a second, all right? God, this isn't a race," Booth shouted. He turned his attention to Cam, suddenly the picture of cool.

"What was the name of the band again?" he asked, getting a very familiar smirk on his face.

She rolled her eyes, but spoke louder this time. "Phallic Friction."

That got Sweets' attention. "Wait a second – that's a punk band from the eighties. A really _good_ punk band from the eighties."

Booth was loving this. "You played bass in a punk band called Phallic Friction?"

Angela got into the action now. "Wait, I know that band – what was that song they did?"

Sweets and Angela said it at the same time, and Cam wouldn't actually have minded if the ocean had just opened up and swallowed her, right then and there.

"Fuck Your Dad, He Fucked My Mom!"

Seeley and Jack burst out laughing, while Sweets and Angela sang the long-forgotten lyrics. When one of them started to fade, the other would hum a couple of bars until they both were going strong again – by the time they got to the chorus, the entire group was singing along, and Cam was laughing so hard she was crying.

* * *

That night, Cam was sure she'd never been so exhausted in her life. She was sore, she was dirty, she was hungry, and the last thing she wanted to do was share her innermost thoughts with the group around a campfire. But, because she was in charge and it was all about making the team work better, she was prepared to do exactly that. How was that for dedication to the job?

They had pasta that, she was shocked to find, actually didn't taste that bad. Booth and Hodgins had been given the cooking and clean-up for the night, and it turned out that both men knew their way around camp food, adding liberal spices and what few vegetables they had. They sat around the campfire, everyone almost too tired to talk, until Tripp and Belle – both of whom were still annoyingly enthusiastic – pulled out the stuff sack of questions.

"All right – so, we'll tackle one question for tonight, then we'll hit the hay."

"Wait a second," Cam said. "We never got Jack's answer from last night." He was sitting beside her, his hair a tangle of curls and his beard growing at a truly alarming rate. "So, what about it, Hodgins? Let's hear your deepest darkest."

He shrugged. "No secrets here, baby – what you see is what you get."

"Oh please," Angela responded, seated on the opposite side of the fire. "I know at least five things off the top of my head that would blow these guys' minds."

A second of silence passed between them before he shrugged again, a little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"All right, fine. In high school, during my younger and more vulnerable days," Cam smiled, recognizing the Gatsby reference immediately. "I was a card-carrying member of the Young Republicans."

Angela eyed him skeptically. "You were not."

He nodded, taking a gulp of tea before he stood to start clean up. "Was too. For six months, my sophomore year."

"Who was the girl?" Booth asked knowingly.

Jack grinned. "Suzie Darlington."

Booth chuckled, and Angela just shook her head. "You think you know someone," she said, but she was smiling when she said it – and maybe it was the fire, but Cam could swear there was a twinkle in her eye when she looked at Jack again.

Brennan and Booth were sitting together again, and Cam was watching when Brennan's head slowly sank onto his shoulder and she closed her eyes.

"Hey Tripp," Booth said, speaking softly so he wouldn't wake her. "Can we skip the questions tonight? It was a helluva long day, I'm pooped."

Cam noted that the agent didn't actually look that tired at all, but was definitely watching his partner with some concern. She'd known Seeley for a lot of years – she knew that he was chivalrous and old-fashioned and stubborn and occasionally a jackass, but she'd never known him to look at anyone the way he was looking at Brennan. After a brief consult between the instructors and the rest of the group, it was decided that they definitely didn't mind skipping the questions and going straight to bed. Everyone got up except Booth and Brennan, and Cam hung back for a minute – just to see what would happen next.

"Hey Bones," Booth said quietly, tapping her on the knee. Brennan opened her eyes, rubbing them sleepily.

"I'm awake."

He grinned. "Yeah – you look it. Come on, time for bed."

He stood and pulled her with him, putting his arm easily over her shoulders as he walked her to her tent.

Cam stretched her aching muscles and breathed in the campfire smoke and the sea air. She never thought she'd see the day when a sleeping bag on the hard ground was a welcome thought, but right now it sounded like heaven. She washed out her dishes, brushed her teeth, and headed for bed. Just before she left the fireside, she glanced at her watch and shook her head in disbelief.

It wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

TBC

* * *

**THANKS AGAIN FOR READING! WRITING CAM WAS A WHOLE NEW CHALLENGE – DID IT HOLD UP TO HER VOICE IN YOUR HEAD? I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS! **


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so remember how in part one (or thereabout), I asked if the chapters were too long, and some people said yes and some people said no? Well, I chose to go with the no's on this one. It's a long chapter. LOOOONG. Thanks as always for the fabulous fabulous comments, you guys really are way too kind. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Day Three: Brennan

In Srebrenica, Brennan stood in bodies up to her knees – skeletons whose bone fragments scratched at her arms and tore at her clothes, ripping through her protective suit until she bled right along with the nameless souls beneath her. In Guatemala, she helped excavate twelve children's skeletons and explained to an elderly woman in imperfect Spanish that she would never know which of the small bodies was her grandson, because the crew had neither the time nor the equipment to identify everyone. Traveling alone in Morocco on her way to an archaeological dig, she was held at gunpoint by a policeman whom, she was sure, would have raped and murdered her had she not produced her paperwork and convinced him that he would be caught and killed for such an act.

She had traveled around the world – always alone, always working. Forensic anthropology wasn't just a job for her, it was a vocation. If she believed in God or Fate the way that Booth did, she might say that she was chosen for this work. But Brennan believed in neither of those things; she believed in facts. And the fact was that, from an early age, her father encouraged her natural curiosity in the sciences; this combined with a high IQ and a natural predilection for the sciences pushed her in the direction of forensic anthropology. The disappearance of her parents gave her an insatiable need to put names to faces and provide closure for others that she did not have herself; it was not magic, merely cause and effect.

It wasn't until much later in the day, however, that Brennan began thinking about things like magic, fate, or cause and effect. In fact, when she woke on the second morning of the third day, she was thinking that it felt like Christmas used to feel when she was a small child – when the simple act of staying in bed was torture, because there was simply too much awaiting her in the day to come. She wriggled out of her sleeping bag without thinking about her life or her future or the state of the western world, tossed her sweatpants and sweatshirt aside in order to put on her bathing suit, and quickly redressed. She pulled her hair into a ponytail without looking at herself in a mirror, stepped over a grumbling Angela, nearly tripped on Cam's legs, and rushed out of the tent.

She wasn't greeted with the same rush of activity as the day before, however. Jack and Tripp were crouching at the tree line, studying the dirt beneath their feet. Belle and Sweets were doing collaborative stretching – they were standing back to back, but the fact that Sweets was at least a foot taller than Belle meant the exercises were rendered almost completely ineffectual. Brennan had performed the same series of moves many times in yoga classes over the years, and she wondered briefly if Sweets taught Belle or it was the other way around.

Booth was sitting on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him – she noted that he winced slightly as he bent forward into the stretch, and upon watching him more closely surmised that his right knee was likely the source of the pain. Occasionally with Booth, she got the feeling that he was humoring her – or felt sorry for her, the way that Russ used to when they were kids. Booth was attractive, popular, funny… People that didn't even understand _her_ invariably fell in love with Booth. Which was why she was planning to let him continue his stretching undisturbed, so that he wouldn't feel obligated to keep her company. But, as soon as he saw her come out of the tent he jumped to his feet – almost as though he'd been waiting for her, which gave her an unexpected flush of pleasure, even if it wasn't an accurate interpretation of his reaction.

"Hey Bones, you look bright and bushy this morning."

She smiled back at him. It was a beautiful morning, the sunrise a deep orange on the horizon and silence on all sides. They were camping in a clearing with several other tents set on raised platforms, all of which seemed to be empty except for the three that their group were occupying.

"Have you been up long?" she asked him.

He shook his head, handing her a mug of coffee. She realized that he'd done the same thing the day before, and wondered if she had thanked him. Too often, she forgot about the social niceties – she'd done the same thing since she was a child, her mind forever running on ahead, too busy to bother with trivial things like etiquette. But, she was coming to understand that those things weren't trivial to Booth, so she smiled politely.

"Thank you – but you didn't have to do that, I could have made it myself."

He shrugged off the comment, but she could tell he was pleased at the acknowledgment. "I was getting some myself – it's just as easy to make two cups as one, Bones."

Angela and Cam emerged from the tent shortly thereafter, both of them looking slightly more put together than they had the morning before. Angela even managed a smile, which Brennan wasn't certain she'd ever seen her friend do before ten a.m.

"Hey sweetie," she said to Brennan, before addressing the larger group. "Who's got my coffee?"

Jack looked up from the geology lesson he was undoubtedly giving Tripp, nodding toward the fire.

"It's over there – watch your hands pouring, it's hot."

She heard her friend grumble something about how the wooing was clearly over, which made no particular sense to Brennan, however she didn't bother to ask the meaning. Instead, she set aside her coffee and took a moment or two to stretch, anxious to get on with the morning's activities. Booth stood beside her while she doubled over at the waist, letting the backs of her hands brush against the ground and her head hang loose.

"Geez, Bones," she heard Booth say, though she didn't look up. "What're you, made of Silly Putty?"

She straightened slowly, enjoying the pull in her spine and the backs of her legs. Once she was upright again, she looked at him curiously as she continued stretching.

"I don't know what that is, but I assume you asked because I'm demonstrating a better range of motion than you, but – "

"Bones, you're demonstrating a better range of motion than Kerri Strug." She looked at him blankly, and he rolled his eyes. "Olympic gymnast a few years back? Broken ankle? National hero?"

She shook her head to indicate that she had no idea what he was talking about, then smiled inwardly when he winced as she bent over backward, performing a full backbend. And all right, that particular position wasn't one she typically used in a warm up routine, but sometimes she just enjoying winding her partner up a bit.

"Good god, Bones, knock it off, wouldja? My back hurts just being _near _yours."

When she straightened again, she took a moment to look him in the eye. "Yoga and the other Eastern disciplines I practice are precisely why my back _doesn't _hurt – and yours does. And why you have problems with digestion, stress, and joint pain. When we get back, you should come to a yoga class with me. It would be good for you."

He looked at her like she'd suggested they circumnavigate the globe in a hot air balloon, which was precisely the reaction she'd expected him to have. She liked her partner, but sometimes he could be very predictable.

"Yeah, right – that sounds great, Bones. You might be more flexible than me, but that's just because you're a woman – I'm still stronger, faster, and I have a helluva lot more stamina than you or any of your fruity friends."

She suppressed a smile, an idea coming to mind instantly. Well, two ideas actually – but the first had to do with stamina, was wholly inappropriate, and was quickly squelched before Brennan explored it any further. The second, however, was much more apt for their current situation.

"Faster, huh? Care to make a friendly barter?"

He looked at her in confusion. A second or two passed before understanding dawned, and he grinned. "Wager, Bones – it's wager. And what'd you have in mind?"

"Race to the pier. Whoever hits the water first wins."

"Wins what?"

She thought for a moment. "If I win, you have to come to a yoga class with me."

He looked intrigued, but clearly wasn't convinced. "And if I win, you have to tell me about your rock star boyfriend."

She wasn't sure what else was required to make it official – Russ used to insist they shake hands for almost everything they did, including bets, dares, and random promises. But Brennan wasn't waiting any longer; Booth was still contemplating the terms and she took full advantage of his momentary hesitation, bounding down the path with him and the rest of the group in her wake.

Thankfully, the trail was clearly marked. She flew down paths strewn with orange and red pine needles, stumbling slightly as she made her way down a steep incline of lichen-covered granite, a bubble of excitement held high in her chest. She thought of the foot races she used to have with Russ when they were kids, when everything would vanish and the only thing that existed was the pull in her calves, the wind in her face, the few feet in front of her. And, of course, that ever-present drive to win, always propelling her forward – even in play.

She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to find that Booth was still several yards behind her, clearly pacing himself – the fact that she'd achieved such a lead this far into the race was unexpected, but she didn't pause to question it. She pressed forward, focusing on her breathing, shutting out everything but the path before her. To her left she could see the ocean now, the sunrise reflected on its surface, seagulls and lobster boats in plain view from the cove.

A few moments later, the pier came into view. She looked back over her shoulder once more with a grin, trying to gauge her advantage over Booth. This time when she turned, she realized that he'd closed the distance between them to just a few yards. The bet was whoever hit the water first, not whoever reached the end of the pier – Booth was pulling off his shirt as he ran, gaining momentum now that they were in the final few seconds of the race. She knew she would lose valuable time if she stopped to undress, so she did what any self-respecting overachiever would do: she pushed herself even harder, not stopping to consider the temperature of the water or the height of the jump or how long it would take her clothes to dry.

She reached the edge of the pier with Booth literally a pace behind her, and pushed herself off with a strangled scream. For a moment she was weightless, that bubble of excitement bursting into laughter in her throat as she hit the freezing water.

First.

Booth came splashing in a second later, landing just a few feet from her. She gasped as the cold water seeped through her clothes, but couldn't stop herself from gloating.

"I win!"

Booth swam over to her with long, sure strokes, shaking his head once he reached her. "You do know your shoes are gonna be soaked for the rest of the course, right?"

"I'll dry them by the fire," she responded quickly, refusing to let his words dampen her spirits. "This means you have to come to my yoga class."

He was treading water just a few inches from her, and for a moment she found herself staring at the drops of seawater that fell down his neck, onto his bare shoulders and chest. She realized from the tiny, familiar smirk on his lips that he knew what she was looking at, but she wouldn't allow herself to look away. Silence fell between them. A moment later, he put his left arm around her, his hand resting at the small of her back – pulling her closer, until her sopping sweatshirt was pressed against his chest.

"We should get out – get you out of those wet clothes," he said, his voice a husky whisper, lower than she remembered it being. At his words, he actually blushed – Brennan watched the tell-tale pink shade creep up his face as he stumbled to recover. "Uh – I mean, you know. Into dry clothes. Because the ones you're wearing are… wet."

She nodded, trying to remain logical – which was proving difficult, as she was still crushed against his chest. "No, you're right. That would be the sensible thing to do."

She'd never wanted less to do the sensible thing. She wasn't entirely sure what was about to happen – if it were anyone but Booth, a kiss would likely be the next logical step. Followed immediately by a marathon of mind-blowing sex, if her body had any say in the matter. But since this was Booth, and thus far they had agreed that neither kissing nor mind-blowing sex were things they did together, she was at a loss.

A moment later, the question was moot because the rest of the group arrived, looking tentatively over the edge of the pier at them. The drop was actually significant – at least fifteen feet, Brennan estimated. She and Booth quickly disengaged, and as they swam for the ladder to climb back up she heard Angela say,

"Okay, holding Bren's hand totally isn't gonna do it this time – I need at least a shot of JD and possibly a dime bag before you're getting me off this pier."

The matter had apparently been resolved by the time Brennan and Booth reached the top of the ladder, because Angela and Hodgins stood hand in hand at the edge of the pier. Brennan collapsed in a heap of leaden clothes, watching as her friend gathered her courage for the leap.

"You promise you won't let go," Angela said to her former fiancé.

Brennan lifted her head to watch them, curious as to what would happen next. She knew the two had broken up some months ago now, but they certainly weren't behaving like two people who'd broken up. Jack smiled at Angela patiently.

"I won't let go."

"Even if I start to drown."

He rolled his eyes a little. "Especially if you start to drown."

Her friend sighed, squared her shoulders, and faced straight ahead. "Oh, fuck it," she said, just loud enough for Brennan to hear her. And with a scream, she and Jack were airborne.

* * *

When Brennan was dried off and changed and everyone had recovered from their icy dip, Tripp gathered them together for the morning meeting. The sun was out now, the chill of morning giving way to what would likely be a very warm day. Brennan sat in a circle between Angela and Booth while Tripp announced their plans for the day.

"Service is especially important in Outward Bound – we believe that in order to live full, meaningful lives, we must first learn what it is to give of ourselves."

Which made perfect sense. Brennan's mind began to wander to other service-oriented civilizations over the course of time, but she quickly refocused her attention.

"We don't typically do the community service component of a course until later in the course, but a great opportunity came our way, so we wanted to take full advantage of your expertise."

Tripp went on to explain that they would be taken by boat to a neighboring island in order to assist a free clinic that provided medical and dental services to the uninsured residents once every three months. Brennan tried to explain that she – and Cam, and Hodgins, and even Sweets – were not the kind of doctors anyone wanted around live sick people, but Tripp seemed to think the matter of credentials was inconsequential.

"You're all educated, compassionate people – all you need to be is willing to lend a hand, we're not asking you to do open heart surgery here."

They all acquiesced with no real argument, particularly when everyone learned they'd be allowed to take showers before leaving for the clinic. An hour later, freshly scrubbed and prepared for whatever the day might bring, Brennan followed Booth down to the boat that would carry them to the clinic. A cooling breeze came off the brilliant blue water as they set out, the sun high in the sky and the fresh air intoxicating. Halfway there, Tripp pointed out a pod of dolphins cresting far off starboard – Brennan stood on her toes with her hands on the railing, her eyes locked on the sight. Booth came over and stood beside her, his body touching hers at their shoulders, at their hips, at their calves. They stood together in silence, watching until the dolphins had vanished on the horizon and their destination was in sight. She couldn't seem to stop smiling.

* * *

When they arrived, the clinic was already abuzz with activity. A long line of people – including children, couples, and the elderly from this and several neighboring islands – waited outside the Grange Hall where the services were being offered. Tripp and Belle led them to the front of the line, through double doors into a hall that seemed to Brennan's practiced eye to be a lesson in chaos.

"Holy shit," she heard Booth mutter under his breath.

They were assigned to teams. Because of her area of expertise, Tripp seemed to feel that Brennan would be best suited for assessing cases slated for emergency care; she could tell if bones were broken or other, more significant issues might be lurking beneath the surface of seemingly insignificant symptoms. Before Tripp could pull out a hat of names or find some other way to separate them, she grabbed Booth's arm and looked at their instructor firmly, daring him to argue.

"We work together."

There was no argument.

They went outside to join a woman taking down names and contact information. Once that had been done, each patient was directed to a series of exam tables cordoned off by movable shower curtains, behind which Brennan or one of six other volunteers would do a preliminary exam and provide the person with a color coded tag indicating the issue of concern – medical, dental, mental health, auditory or optical – and an additional, brightly colored red tag for those requiring immediate care.

Booth was better at talking to the people; he asked questions and set them at ease, charming the women, joking with the children, talking sports or politics with the men. Brennan felt for broken bones, palpated abdomens, looked inside mouths to find bleeding gums or rotten teeth. One elderly man who reeked of cigarette smoke approached with his hand wrapped in an Ace bandage, looking so ill at ease that even Brennan couldn't miss it.

"Could you unwrap your hand, sir?" Booth asked the man politely.

The man did so, holding out said hand a moment later to Brennan without taking his eyes off Booth.

"You military?" he asked.

Booth nodded. "Yes, sir. Army – you?"

The man grunted slightly, though Brennan couldn't be sure whether it was in response to the question or the pain he had to be feeling – his hand was swollen to almost three times its normal size, with a deep gash across the palm that had clearly been sutured at home . Brennan prided herself on her ability to work through almost anything, but the smell of rotting flesh was so strong that she nearly took a step back. She looked at Booth, but he kept his eyes attentively on the patient; buoyed by his perseverance, she continued her exam.

"This is badly infected – it looks as though the skin might be gangrenous. You'll need surgery to remove the infected areas, and even then I'm not certain the hand can be saved."

Booth's eyes widened at her matter of fact tone, but the man didn't seem surprised. He shook his head.

"Can't lose my hand – fishin' don't bring much money no more, but it's all I got. You can't fish with one hand. Trust me, I been trying."

"What about the VA?" Booth asked, before Brennan could argue her point. "You must get benefits – they should take care of the hospital bills."

"Sure they will – but my benefits got cut last year. I got a wife and a grandson to support, and the Army check sure as hell don't cover that."

He pulled his hand back and started to rewrap it. "I thought maybe I could get some antibiotics and some fresh stitches, and we'd let it go at that. If you can't do that for me, I'll just keep doin' what I been doin'."

"What you've been doing will kill you," Brennan insisted. "The hand's clearly infected – it's only a matter of time before the infection enters your bloodstream, at which point – "

Booth interrupted, stopping her with a look. "Why don't you just go on in and see what they can do for you – this isn't Dr. Brennan's area of specialty, she might be way off base."

She glared at him, but the look on his face convinced her not to argue the point.

"Let us just give you the tags here so they know where to put you, and we'll see if we can get you fixed up."

The man looked unconvinced until Booth added. "You've come this far, sir. A military man like yourself doesn't turn back before the final surge."

Brennan handed the man a red emergency tag and a blue one indicating that it was a medical, issue jotting down a series of notes for him to give the attendant physicians inside. She and Booth exchanged a look that she couldn't quite identify – part mutual respect, part understanding, and something else she wasn't certain she could put into words – before the next person arrived and they continued with the day.

It was past dinner when things changed. The group had gotten together for a rushed potluck meal the island residents had provided, and then Booth and Brennan returned to triage. They'd gotten into an easy rhythm, Booth continuing to press her for details of her 'rock star boyfriend' in between patients, and for the first time since they'd arrived she could see the end of the line of people waiting to see them.

A woman and her two young sons were next. The older of the boys walked in front, his arm in a sling; the younger boy walked behind, his eyes taking in the scene around them. The mother was last. She walked with her eyes straight ahead and her shoulders back, her mouth a thin, humorless line. The boy was supposed to be the patient, but Brennan noted when the woman stopped walking that she winced slightly, her hand resting on her lower abdomen almost reflexively. She looked at Booth, whispering under her breath.

"I want to examine the mother."

He nodded, seemingly unsurprised. Brennan noticed that the tic in his jaw – the one he got when he was upset or tense – was moving. Brennan quickly determined that it would be best to use the son's care as leverage to get his mother on the table.

"Would you mind – we like to do an exam of everyone, just in case there's a symptom you might be unaware of. It's very fast."

She waited for Booth to step in and say something to set the woman at ease, but he was standing woodenly with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the two boys. The woman shook her head.

"I'm all right – we're just here for Sam. He fell out of a tree yesterday."

"It won't take long – we have to, it's part of our jobs," Brennan lied, the matter feeling strangely urgent. The way the woman held herself, as though she was walking over broken glass, made her very uneasy.

"Well, just say you examined me and get on with my son. I'll sign a paper if I have to."

Booth seemed to come to at that point, just barely managing a smile that didn't look like his at all.

"Please, ma'am – it's just a few minutes. Then we can take care of your boy."

Grudgingly, the woman got onto the exam table. Brennan closed the curtain to the outside world, leaving Booth in charge of the two boys. When they were alone and the woman pulled up her shirt at Brennan's request, the anthropologist made a conscious effort not to react to the pattern of old and new bruises coloring her back and stomach. A deep purple bruise with the unmistakable imprint of a boot tread caught her attention, just below the woman's navel.

When Brennan palpated the abdomen, it was rigid – the woman hissed softly, her eyes closed.

"You can put your shirt down," she said quietly. The woman did as she was told, her eyes open once more – but not looking anywhere in Brennan's direction.

"You have internal bleeding," Brennan told her. She didn't know what else to say. Someone else would be better at this – Angela would tell the woman how to get help, where to go. But Brennan didn't know either of those things – she just knew about bones. It was all she was good at.

"I'm going to give you two tags, and I'm going to send you to the front of the line. If you refuse, the bleeding will continue. You'll get weaker. The pain will get worse. And within forty-eight hours, you'll die."

The woman seemed to be waiting for something else – when it didn't come, she looked almost relieved. She took the tags and the accompanying notes, and returned to her sons. When Brennan took the older of the boys in to be examined, Booth stood in the woman's way – didn't touch her, didn't even really block her, but it was clear that she wasn't going anywhere.

"You mind if I talk to you for just a second, ma'am?" he asked, except that the way he said it made it clear that it wasn't a request.

"Booth," Brennan said quietly, but he didn't even look at her. He told the other boy to wait with his brother, and led the woman off to the side. Brennan tried to focus on the thin blonde boy looking up at her, purposely shutting out the indecipherable conversation being held nearby.

"Your name's Sam?" she asked the boy. He nodded, looking straight ahead in much the same way his mother had. "I'm Temperance," she told him, feeling undeniably awkward. Booth was so much better at this part. "Would you take your shirt off for me, so I can take a look at your arm?"

He did so. There were bruises in the pattern of fingerprints around his bicep, and it was clear just from her preliminary examination that the arm was broken. The conversation between Booth and the mother was growing more heated – she could hear Booth's words now, and the boy straightened slightly, his shoulders tensing.

"He's ten fuckin' years old, lady," she heard Booth say. "You don't think this affects him? You think just because he gets straight As and is captain of Little League, this isn't gonna follow him around for the rest of his life?"

Brennan cleared her throat, trying to get the boys' attention once more. "I'm just going to give you this blue tag – they'll take care of you inside. You'll probably have to wear a cast for a few weeks." She looked at the other boy. "Casts – they can be kind of cool, right? I had one once, and my brother drew pictures all over it."

The younger boy smiled at this. "Will you let me draw on yours, Sam?"

Sam nodded, but the tension in his thin shoulders didn't ease and he didn't smile as he carefully put his shirt back on. "Sure, Will. Anything you want."

Booth opened the curtain a moment later. It looked like the mother had been crying, but the FBI agent didn't look sorry in the least. He knelt beside Sam, producing a piece of paper with several numbers on it.

"That number's my cell phone – I'm away from it 'til Sunday, then I'm back again. That's my office. That's a guy I know down in Boston who owes me a favor. That's another guy I know in New Hampshire – he owes me a favor, too." He pointed to each number as he explained, then looked the boy in the eye. "You're the one who takes care of things, right?" he asked Sam knowingly.

The boy nodded, and it seemed to Brennan that something passed between the two – a tacit understanding of something she would never grasp.

"Yeah, you are," Booth said. "If things get out of hand, nobody else is gonna call these numbers – you know that, right? It's on you. It sucks, but that's the way it is. But you call any one of 'em, and I'll have someone at your place within an hour. You understand?"

He straightened and tousled the boy's hair, giving him a smile that even Brennan could tell was fake. The family walked away with their red and blue tags, as well as a yellow mental health tag Brennan had added as an afterthought. She looked at Booth, but this time he didn't look back at her. They waited for the next surge.

* * *

That night, it was quiet around the campfire. Booth had been distant since the incident with the mother and sons, saying nothing on the trip back before disappearing for a solitary run around the island once they'd returned. Once he was back, he seemed no more at ease – he was restless and irritable during dinner, arguing with Sweets before falling silent again once they were seated in a circle around the fire. Booth sat beside her as he usually did, but kept himself carefully separate from her. A couple of times over the course of the evening, she would look up to find him looking at her, but when she tried to break the tension with a smile, he'd just look away.

Despite their protests that everyone was too tired, Tripp insisted on resuming the question-and-answer game before bed. He passed the stuff sack to Jack, who laughed aloud when he read the question.

"All right - now we're talkin'." Brennan looked across the circle at Hodgins, intrigued by his tone. "If you could sleep with anyone in this group," he read, "without any consequences, who would it be and why?"

There was laughter around the circle – even from Booth, which made her relax slightly. Hodgins held up his hand to stop everyone. "Hang on, there's more. It says: 'Note: this does not include instructors.' _Nice,_" he said approvingly.

Tripp looked uncomfortable. "I don't know if that's necessarily appropriate – "

To Brennan's surprise, Sweets was the one who spoke up. "We're all adults here – I'm sure we can handle it. Besides, I think the responses could be very telling."

She found herself thinking with undeniable bitterness of the psychologist's experiment between her and Booth, when he hadn't told her that her partner's supposed death was just a ruse. No one else seemed disturbed by his apparent fascination with their personal lives, however, so Brennan said nothing.

"All right," Tripp conceded after a bit more wheedling from the group. "Fine – but if anyone's uncomfortable with the question, feel free to abstain."

"Nice word choice, sweetie," Angela called out amongst more laughter.

Jack turned to Cam, seated at his right. "So – dealer's choice, right? We'll start with the boss lady, and go around the circle from there."

"Somehow I don't see how this kind of information is gonna make us work better," Cam protested, and the group booed loudly.

"Come on," Angela said. "It never leaves this circle – we'll take it to our graves."

Cam nodded. "All right, all right. Anyone in the group, but not an instructor." She glanced at Booth, and Brennan felt oddly predatory. "Well, we've already gone down that road…"

"Yeah, but once you go Booth, you never go back," Booth said with a grin.

Cam rolled her eyes. "Uh – yeah. Okay, so… Hodgins, I guess. I mean, if it was an alternate universe with no ramifications and – "

Jack bumped his knee up against hers lightly. "Oh, stop. You know you want me."

Even Brennan laughed at that. A moment later, she was surprised to feel someone behind her – she turned to find that Booth had resituated himself so that now he was seated behind her with his legs slightly parted, allowing her space to sit between them. She hesitated a long moment, feeling suddenly flushed and slightly breathless – for a moment, she wondered if she was coming down with something. Their eyes met, his still… sad, she thought, a half-smile that seemed even sadder on his lips. She thought of the day he'd had, the friend that he was. Glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Swallowed hard, as though she were daring something far more significant than a shift in seating positions.

While the conversation continued around them, she scooted back until her back was flush against his chest. His arms settled with surprising ease around her. She could feel his heart beating against her back, his warmth more comforting than she would have expected.

"Sorry about earlier," he said quietly in her ear, his breath warm on her neck.

She turned to look at him, and to his great surprise – and hers – she craned her neck a bit and kissed him softly on the cheek. He looked at her for a moment, a strangely shy smile on his lips.

"Thanks, Bones," he whispered to her.

They went around the circle quickly, but despite the subject matter Brennan found it difficult to keep her eyes open. Angela wanted to sleep with Brennan, which caused a huge stir around the fire; Sweets wanted to sleep with Angela, which was apparently a surprise to no one but Brennan, and then suddenly it was her turn.

"Okay you two snuggle-bugs," Angela said. "Let's hear it. Like we don't already know."

"Pass," Brennan said quickly, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with her position. Booth shook her slightly.

"Bo-ones," he said, drawing out the name the way he did when he was annoyed. "You can't not answer the question."

"Tripp said we don't have to answer if we're uncomfortable," she insisted.

Booth snorted. "Yeah, but he _has_ to say that – look, even they want to hear this," he nodded in the direction of their instructors, who did indeed appear interested in the answer. "C'mon, let's hear it – whose bones does Bones wanna jump?"

She considered for a moment, her tension mounting. "But it's not a realistic question – there would invariably be ramifications if any one of us slept with another. We see each other every day. Just look at Angela and Hodgins."

"Hypothetical, Bren. Look it up," Angela said. "Alternate universe. No strings. No morning after. Just bone melting sex, with no complications."

"It's physically impossible for sex to melt bones," Brennan said automatically.

Try as she might, she couldn't see her way clear to answering the question. Though she was sitting up now, Booth was still behind her with her arms on his knees and his hands on her shoulders, tangled together as though this kind of contact was commonplace. It was a ridiculous question. If it were possible, then of course she would be perfectly justified in saying Booth – he was her partner, after all. They'd seen each other in any number of circumstances; it was only logical for her to be curious about exploring something that would otherwise be impossible. But somehow, she couldn't say the words.

"Fine," she finally said. "Hodgins. I'd have sex with Hodgins." She looked at Angela, who was looking at her strangely. "Sorry, Ange."

She was surprised to hear Booth chuckle behind her.

Angela didn't chuckle, though. "All right, fine – sure," Her friend said. "You'd sleep with Jack, before you'd sleep with anyone else here." She threw her hands in the air. "And the delusion continues. What about you, Booth? Let me guess – you're sleepin' with Jack, too?"

Brennan turned to look at him curiously, but she quickly looked away at the grin awaiting her.

"Hell, no. No strings, no complications, no morning after? I'm sleepin' with Bones."

Angela actually squealed with delight at his response, as the rest of the group broke into applause. Brennan had no idea how to respond, but apparently no response was necessary. Booth wrapped his arms around her and nestled her closer, and it struck her as very odd that she didn't find his proximity more… alarming, somehow. She closed her eyes, her head laying back against Booth's chest, his heartbeat strong in her ears. The rest of the group continued, but Brennan found herself too fatigued to join them. As she drifted off, surrounded by her friends' laughter and the feel of Booth's body holding her own, she found her mind wandering back to things like magic, and fate, and cause and effect.

And she slept.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Thanks yet again for all the wonderful words from everyone, I'm so pleased that people seem to be enjoying this as much as I love writing it. I got lots of feedback saying that bigger is better (insert inappropriate sexual innuendo here), so this is definitely a long one – but not intentionally, it just seemed that dear old Jack had lots to say. Hope you enjoy it!_

_Oh – and please note that in my world, Roxy never happened. Maybe someday I'll understand where the writers are going with the whole Ang/Roxy thing and maybe I'll love them for it, but right now I just don't see it. So… she's gone. Poof. No more Roxy in this Bones-verse. _

* * *

Day Four: Hodgins

Booth snored like a drunken logger. And he talked in his sleep, too – Jack went to private boys' schools for a lot of years growing up, so he was used to roommates from hell. But Booth? Booth was a nightmare – mostly because it seemed like, at least tonight, he was having one nonstop from the time his head hit the pillow. At first, Jack felt bad for the guy – he'd had his share of crappy dreams after the whole buried alive thing, so he knew how much it sucked. But around three a.m., when Booth was still tossing and turning and snoring and talking… It was a little tough to find the compassion, that's all he was saying.

Sweets also talked in his sleep, but he'd have whole goddamn conversations in the middle of the night. The first night, Jack thought they were having this deep discussion about life and bugs and some Jungian thing the psychologist kept mentioning, until all of a sudden Sweets switched gears and started talking about his mother's strawberry shortcake. So, between Booth and Sweets and their non-stop pillow talk, Jack was pretty much convinced he was in hell. He looked out the tent flap only to find that it was still dark out, with no sign of daylight on the horizon. He thought of the night before, and the big question around the campfire:

Who would you sleep with?

Jesus.

Angela, and Angela, and Angela again.

But of course he couldn't say that, because she was giving him that 'Please don't make this harder than it has to be,' look, and so he kind of gave her the eyes and said,

"I think you guys all know who I'd sleep with – I don't exactly make a secret of it."

And Angela looked at him, and then stared at the ground with that guilty look she had, like she'd crucified his puppy instead of just broken his heart. He cleared his throat, looked across the campfire, and said,

"Sweets – I can't keep it inside anymore, man." To which the whole group busted up, relieved that he wasn't going where they'd thought he was going. "Those bee-stung lips, those spaniel eyes, those twelve-year-old girl hips… Come 'ere, buddy, let's make this thing happen."

He stood as though making a move for the psychologist, who blushed and laughed and generally was a good sport about the whole thing. Angela looked at him then – those gorgeous eyes of hers sweet and low on his, smiling that sad smile that she'd had ever since the split.

'You, you, you,' he'd wanted to say. 'Anytime, anyplace – with consequences or without, No morning after or a million of 'em.'

But that would've been pathetic, and he was done with that. So, instead he'd walked her to her tent without kissing her goodnight, forced a smile, and left her.

Oh yeah, he was in hell.

After another fifteen minutes of lying there waiting for sleep that clearly wasn't coming, he finally gave up. He crept out of the tent with his sleeping bag around his shoulders and went to the fire pit, which was now just a pile of blackened coals and gray ash. Starting the fire kept him occupied for a good half-hour, while he listened to the crickets – at first he'd thought they might be _Gryllus firums, _but the song told him immediately that he was off base; this was clearly _Acheta domesticus_ – besides which, the sand field cricket rarely strayed farther north than Delaware, so he was obviously losing it. Nope, nothing but a common house cricket, scratching its little legs together with wild abandon. He listened more closely. Huh – okay, maybe _Gryllus pennsylvanicus _made more sense.

It was beginning to bug him (pun definitely intended), so he decided he'd just put it out of his head and focus on something else.

Belle and Tripp slept in a smaller tent off to the side of their site, while the girls' tent was right beside the guys. The fire was going well now, so he set his sleeping bag down beside it and lay down. He kind of liked the idea of Brennan, Cam, and Angela all curled up together just a few feet away. And okay, yeah, logically he knew that they weren't sleeping in oversized t-shirts or Victoria's Secret panties or anything, but somehow that didn't stop his head from going there.

It was a cold night, so they'd have to huddle together in the tent – for warmth, right? That only made sense, especially since Dr. B only had that football jersey… Jack closed his eyes, enjoying the rush of blood flowing below the belt now. The scene played out in his head, full Technicolor and digital surround sound.

Angela would say something about how much she missed him – the companionship, sure, but she also had needs. Needs that sometimes only another woman could understand. And Cam would nod understandingly, the shine of the moonlight accentuating the contrast between her dark skin and that pink teddy riding up her thighs.

Jack licked his lips, looking around quickly to make sure he was still alone as his hand wandered past the elastic band of his sweatpants.

_We all need that special touch sometimes_, Cam would say soothingly. She'd reach out to stroke Ange's hair, but then Brennan would say,

"Is there any coffee?"

Jack opened his eyes, pulled his hands out of his pants, and sat bolt upright – to find Dr. Brennan staring down at him. She definitely wasn't wearing a football jersey, either – well, she might've been, but if she was it was buried under about a dozen other layers. Her hair was standing on end, and one side of her face had ridges on it from sleeping on… corduroy, maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn't her best look.

"Dr. Brennan!" he tried to curl himself up a little more in his sleeping bag, waiting for his hard-on to dissipate.

"What are you doing up so early?"

She sat down on a nearby rock, a wrinkle in her forehead.

"I'm usually a very sound sleeper, particularly when I'm out in the wilderness like this. But for some reason tonight I didn't that tired."

He nodded, trying to figure out if she knew what she'd walked in on. Or out on. Which of course she couldn't, because… well, sleeping bag. And it was dark. And she was brilliant, sure, but she sure as hell was no mind reader. So, he was safe. God, he hoped he was safe.

"Yeah, same here." She looked confused. "About the sleeping, I mean." He decided not to mention the part about his tent mates from hell – let Dr. B find out for herself, if she ever decided to go down that road.

They fell silent. According to his watch, it was four-thirty in the morning. The crickets had long since retired, but every so often he could hear an owl calling off in the distance, hollow and kind of surreal. Dr. Brennan wasn't talking, but she didn't seem to be listening, either – she looked lost in thought, that wrinkle in her forehead still prominent.

Jack didn't push her – partly because he didn't want to intrude, partly because he wasn't so great at heart-to-hearts… Especially not with his boss. He made coffee and handed it to her without a word; she looked up, like she was surprised he was still there.

"Thank you," she said, and she kind of reminded him of the way a kid is when they're just learning manners; very deliberate, like there was a voice in her head saying, _Don't forget the please and thank you. _Which made him like her even more than he already did, for some reason – and that was saying something.

"The others are still asleep," she said, and he wasn't clear on whether she was asking or telling, so he just nodded. "It's very pretty here," she added, looking around like she hadn't noticed it before.

Jack nodded again. "Yeah – I like all the evergreens, that smell in the air."

He thought about explaining that there were only evergreens because of all the granite – which kept the topsoil loose and made it difficult to retain nutrients, closing the door to all but the heartiest vegetation. Spruce, fir, a few white birches… Not much else would grow in this kind of soil.

But she probably already knew all that stuff, so he kept quiet.

By the time Belle and Tripp finally got up to ring the cowbell, Brennan had drifted back to sleep by the fire and Jack was wishing he'd been able to catch at least a few more Zs himself – or at least finish what he'd started before Brennan interrupted. Once everyone was up and around, though, he comforted himself with the knowledge that at least he wasn't the only one off his game.

The whole morning felt a little weird, to be honest. Jack was tired and short-tempered, and he really didn't feel like being there anymore – not with the packed schedule and the crappy food and the loaded glances between him and Angela. The day before had been hard, a ton of people with crappy lives that he couldn't help, and after that kind of overload all he really wanted was to lose himself in the lab for a day or two, let the work do its magic. But obviously, that wasn't an option.

Booth didn't come out of his tent until everyone else – including Cam and Angela – were up, and when he did he had circles under his eyes and his usual lighthearted banter seemed forced. He went and sat down by Brennan at the fire, and Jack felt bad for the guy when she didn't even look up, apparently too busy studying a bunch of plants she'd gathered from the area. Booth wasn't the only one having trouble with the ladies, though – Angela had barely looked at Jack since she'd stumbled out of her tent, which didn't make a hell of a lot of sense since last night they'd been laughing and joking and generally having a good time.

But that was Angela, so what the hell.

By the time the run and dip came around, Jack was grateful just to have something to do to get himself out of his head. He found himself competing with Booth at the end of the line again, but this time Booth had this weird wired vibe coming off him, so Jack slowed down a little and let him push past without a word. He followed close behind, landing in the water a second or two after Booth; they both swam back to the ladder and climbed up without a word, not waiting for anyone else to finish.

At the morning meeting, Dr. Brennan was still cataloging her plants. Jack caught Booth looking at her a couple of times, but the agent didn't sit beside her and he didn't go over again. Angela was sketching again, but it wasn't her "I'm in love with the world" sketching, it was her pissed off, "Leave me alone or suffer the consequences" sketching, a wrinkle of concentration in her forehead and her shoulders hunched over the sketch pad to keep the world out.

Tripp took the stage in short order, announcing that they'd hit the halfway point – like that was some big accomplishment or something.

"So far, you guys have done great – we've been really impressed with how well you work together, the care and compassion you bring to your jobs and to one another."

Jack almost snorted out loud at that one, but he managed to contain himself while Tripp continued.

"Day four is almost legendary for pushing the envelope emotionally – you might start to feel some tension where you haven't before."

Jack looked around the circle, noting the distance between people, the hunched shoulders, the loaded glances. _No shit, Sherlock, _he thought.

And then Sweets started in, and the day just got worse from there.

"You guys have been in close proximity and high stress scenarios for several days now – you can think of this as a very apt metaphor for the work situations you face on a daily basis. As you begin to experience the very natural feelings of resentment or anger, sadness or loss, I want you to try to go inward and name those feelings – don't run from them, embrace them. Express your pain, don't repress it."

Everyone groaned at that, and Sweets looked genuinely pissed off – he switched gears in about an eighth of a second, obviously choosing to embrace his "Express, not repress" mantra.

"Fine – you know what, you're right. Stuff it down, by all means. You're right and I am completely wrong. Sure, I have a PhD and have spent literally hundreds of hours studying the emotions of people in high pressure positions like yours. But clearly, you guys have it all covered."

Tripp raised an eyebrow, and Sweets finally – mercifully – shut the hell up.

"Sorry, Tripp," Sweets said, "Please continue."

"Lance actually does have a point, though," Tripp started up again. Jack zoned out at that point, thinking of the types of marine life native to the shallows of the island, wishing that he had specimen jars with him to catalog his findings.

* * *

Any other day, Jack would have been over the moon to pick Angela's name out of Tripp's freakishly oversized Outward Bound hat. Today, though… He'd seen that look in Angela's eyes before, and he'd learned a long time ago what the look meant: Stay as far away as possible, until the storm had passed and the seas were clear again. Somehow, sitting on the other end of a two-man kayak didn't seem like a safe enough distance.

That wasn't the only bombshell of the day, however. Once partners had been divvied up – Booth and Cam together, and Sweets and Brennan – Belle and Tripp told everyone that they were giving up their roles as navigators. They handed over the compass and navigational charts, gave the group their destination, and announced that it was up to the six of them to reach an island about ten miles north/northeast of their current location.

All hell broke loose. Booth was convinced he should take the lead; Jack would have argued the point more, but one look at Angela convinced him that there was no way they should be leading the pack. Brennan tried to steamroll the FBI man, but he basically ignored her – and everyone else.

"Army sniper. Decorated officer. What part of this do you people not get?"

"Yes, but when we were in London you couldn't even navigate the roundabouts without becoming severely agitated," Brennan insisted. He glared at her.

"Well, that's because _everything _in London is a roundabout, and I was in a stupid clown car with the steering wheel on the wrong side – " He pulled himself up short. "Look, I'm taking the lead – end of discussion. Besides, Cam here's got tons of field tracking experience – "

Based on the look of confusion on Dr. Saroyan's face, Jack guessed offhand that that was a lie.

"So," Booth continued. "We'll lead. It only makes sense – you guys just follow close behind, don't get too distracted by the bugs or the plankton or whatever, and we'll be there by noon."

It was like he was baiting Dr. B – he even looked over at her, like he was waiting for her to fight him. But she didn't. Instead, she turned to Sweets and told him she was taking the stern and got in before he could say a word. Angela told Jack to take the back, which he'd expected – she hated navigating anything, said it was too much responsibility. When they used to go on trips together, she'd always sit in the passenger seat watching the world go by in that way she had, never missing a single detail, never the least bit concerned about whether he was going too fast or had taken a wrong turn.

About an hour into the trek, with the sun full on them and the world gliding by, it seemed like Angela was relaxing more. Much as Jack hated to admit it, it did seem like Cam and Booth made a good team – Cam had the chart and compass while Booth handled the steering, shouting directions back to the rest of the group every so often. Booth seemed pretty intense about the whole thing, but Jack figured that was just the whole military thing coming out. Really, the only ones who didn't seem to be getting into the groove were Sweets and Brennan. At one point, Jack and Angela were close enough to overhear their conversation – not that it was that tough, because Dr. B was definitely not whispering.

"I told you, I prefer not to discuss that – here or anywhere. Sometimes, I think you intentionally choose subjects that you know will annoy me, just to see my reaction – as though you're experimenting with me again. If Booth found out…"

The wind swept the rest of the conversation away, but Jack quirked an eyebrow at Angela.

"What do you think that was about?"

She shook her head, but it was obvious she was intrigued. "Who knows."

He paused, not wanting to give up now that he'd finally gotten her talking. "So… Did she tell you about the whole rock star thing? She was going to right – after you jumped in the water that day?"

Angela looked over her shoulder with a little grin. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Not really. He honestly didn't care – so Dr. B dated a rock star. He had his own list of secret honeys he'd take to the grave; he wasn't all that concerned about Dr. Brennan's. He shrugged.

"She didn't tell you, did she?"

Angela gave him that look she always used to give him when he wouldn't play along – a quick eye roll, a hint of a smile on the left side.

"I told her not to. Booth cares way too much – he should hear it first."

Jack smiled at this – it was the kind of thing that made him like her so damned much. A more comfortable silence followed, before he interrupted with another question.

"She sure is in a lousy mood today. Any idea what that's about?"

One sure way to get Angela talking? Ask her about somebody else. Sure enough, she turned to Jack and rolled her eyes, for the first time that day showing some genuine interest.

"Please – like you don't know."

His eyes widened. "Apparently, you overestimate my deductive powers when it comes to the fairer sex."

She smiled sweetly – he felt dizzy for a second, then forced himself to get a grip.

"I think you're pretty perceptive, more often than not. And I think you know it, so stop fishing for compliments."

He shrugged, not sure how to respond. "Well, maybe I'm just off my game on this one. Why don't you spell it out for me."

She lowered her voice. Jack kept one eye on Booth up front, but pretty much everything else was focused on the kayak, the steady rhythm of the paddles in the clear water, and Angela's voice telling him the way it was.

"So – last night, we're all around the fire and Bren – whether it's the full moon or that time of the month or just a helluva good day with her favorite FBI guy – lets her guard down. Snuggles up. Falls asleep in Booth's arms, with the whole world watching…"

"She's freaked out," Jack summarized.

Angela nodded wisely. "Oh yeah, Jack – freaked with a capital FREAK. The whole wedding hug thing? That's nothing, compared to this. She got all quiet in the tent last night, wouldn't talk to me at all… Did she say anything to you when she got up?"

Jack replayed the scene in his mind, then shook his head after a second or two. "Not really – thanked me for the coffee, said it was really pretty out. But that was it."

Angela nodded again, like this somehow confirmed what she'd just said. "Oh yeah," she said, almost under her breath. "She's freaking out."

* * *

It wasn't that Jack wanted them to be lost at sea or anything, but somehow it would've been nice if Booth had at least a little trouble getting them where they were going. Instead, they hit their target island at just after one, just when Jack's stomach had really started rumbling. They set up camp in a clearing not far from the beach, and ate more nuts and berries and these ridiculously dense homemade power bar things that Jack was sure would keep him regular on into his nineties. Then, they circled up yet again while Tripp and Belle told them their latest plan for torturing the group.

"We're definitely psyched that you guys were able to get here without any help from us," Belle explained, in her chirpy Disney princess way. "But it just seems like there wasn't that much teamwork involved."

"What are you talkin' about?" Booth piped up. "There was tons of teamwork. Cam and me led, everybody else followed, and presto – here we are. Sounds like pretty good teamwork to me."

Jack noticed that Cam wasn't sitting next to him anymore, which made him feel a little better – apparently the teamwork hadn't been _that _perfect.

"It's true that you achieved the physical goal, but sometimes the way you reach a goal is just as important as the achievement itself," Tripp said. Jack rolled his eyes, but kept quiet. Booth didn't.

"That doesn't even make sense. If you have something that you need to do, you figure out how to make it happen and then you do it. If you sit around and talk about it – who wants what, who feels what, whatever – then all you end up with is a whole lot of talk and nothing gets done."

"But in the long run when you're working with a team," Sweets said, and for a second Jack actually thought Brennan might hit him. "Continually discounting the individual goals of each member begins to erode the working relationship between the group. This morning when you decided that you would take the lead to get us here, you completely disregarded the role anyone else might have played in facilitating the achievement of that goal."

Booth just looked at him. "Huh? Why can't you just speak English for once? We're all here – everybody's in one piece, and we got here on time. What the hell's the problem?"

"He's saying that if you had involved the group more in the decision making process," Dr. Brennan said, but Jack noticed that she didn't quite meet Booth's eye when she spoke. "People might feel less hostile about your leadership style."

"Hey – nobody's hostile about my leadership style, Bones. I've got a great leadership style."

Angela sighed, and Jack was right there with her. Before anybody came to blows, Tripp stepped in once more.

"I think this would be a great time for a teambuilding exercise that will hopefully give you guys a little more trust in how you work together."

Belle got up and retrieved a pack that she unceremoniously dumped in the middle of them. About two dozen sashes of different colors and lengths lay on the ground between them – Angela looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he grinned.

"Wow, looks like Valentine's Day last year."

She actually blushed, which was weirdly satisfying. Tripp picked up a bunch of the sashes, and told everyone to stand up.

"All right – your goal is to retrieve five golden eggs we'll place around the campsite." He went to Booth, and Jack definitely saw the instructor smile when he said the next words.

"Seeley, you're goin' in blind. You'll have use of your arms and legs, but you have to listen to the others if you want to be successful."

Booth put up a pretty good fight, but in the end Belle and Tripp had the final say. Before long, all six of them were trussed like Christmas geese, and Jack wasn't real excited with the afternoon ahead of them.

Everyone but Angela and Sweets were blindfolded, but they both had their hands and feet tied. They were each set up on opposite sides of the campsite. The rest of the group was blindfolded with their hands bound, which meant Angela and Sweets had to verbally direct them to each of the eggs and then it was up to the remaining four – Cam, Booth, Brennan, and Jack – to figure out how to pick each egg up and return it to a basket at the center of the campsite. The teams were Booth, Jack, and Angela against Brennan, Sweets, and Cam, and the only question on Jack's mind was who was gonna have a meltdown first.

"This is like some bizarre form of torture," Jack complained. "Don't they have something about this in the Geneva Convention? Water boarding's fine, but no tying people up to hunt for fake gold eggs?"

With the sash around his eyes and his hands tied behind his back – a little too tight for comfort, too – Jack tried to focus on his surroundings. You know, kind of get in touch with his inner Jedi. Belle put her Disney princess hands on his arms and pushed him to the center of the site, where he bumped into Booth and nearly tripped on Brennan.

"Ow! Watch it," Booth warned, and it was clear from his tone of voice that he wasn't enjoying this.

A minute or two later, he heard Tripp say, "All right – eggs have been placed. Go to it."

"Booth – you there?" he ventured into the darkness. Booth answered from about six inches from him, which made him realize how completely disoriented he was.

"Yeah, I'm right here," Booth said. "Ange? You ready for this?" He raised his voice, and Angela answered immediately.

"I'm about six feet – or maybe eight feet, away from you guys. Okay, now I want you to turn to the left – sorry, sorry: my left, your right. Turn to the right, and take four steps."

Easy as pie. Except that Booth kept bumping into him, and then once they finally reached an egg Ange directed them to go too far and Jack stepped on it. He was slightly comforted to know that the other team was faring no better – apparently, Brennan wasn't listening to Sweets at all, while Cam was trying to do all the work herself to make up for her teammate's absence. At the end of an hour of wandering around blindfolded with the sun beating down on them, they ended up with a tie – two eggs in each basket, and six very pissed-off looking teammates rubbing rope burns from wrists and ankles, while Jack wondered what the hell he'd done to deserve this kind of punishment.

Even Tripp and Belle looked a little unnerved at the monumental lack of cooperation. For the hundredth time since the whole Outward Bound nightmare began, it was time to circle up again. Belle cleared her throat, looking at each of them like she'd just realized they were lepers or something.

"Well… That was an interesting exercise to watch, from our perspective. It seems like there are some trust issues that you guys really need to work on, before you can reach your full potential."

No one said a word. After a minute or two of just staring at the ground – more granite, Jack noted, impenetrable and almost impossible for growth – Tripp finally stood.

"All right, guys – you've already put in a hell of a day, so how about taking some time out for a siesta. We've got a night hike coming up this evening, so just chill for a while."

Jack saw Sweets exchange a look with Belle and Tripp that seemed significant, and just barely heard him whisper, "Are we doing the Crack?"

They both gave him a look that clearly said shut the hell up, which he did, but Jack didn't like the grin on Sweets' face.

"Take a walk, get some sleep, get some space," Tripp continued. "Whatever you need to do. We'll meet back here at dinner, in three hours."

Which Jack spent sleeping, thank you very much. It was hotter than hell, and his beard itched, and despite scrubbing down in the ocean a couple times a day, he was beyond ripe at this point. He stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, slathered on the sunscreen, and slept on top of his sleeping bag out on the beach, where he could catch at least a hint of a sea breeze every now and again. He didn't dream, he didn't snore, he didn't move. He just slept, and was grateful, at least, for that.

Everyone was quiet at dinner, but at least it seemed like the tension had eased off a little. Then once dinner was done, they sat in another goddamn circle around another goddamn campfire, while a full white moon rose over the water. Tripp pulled out another goddamn question, and this time Jack was grateful – at least it'd give everyone something to talk about.

"Okay, guys," Tripp said, obviously trying to lighten things up. "The question for day four: Have you ever been arrested, and if so, what for?"

Everyone laughed a little – not a lot, but it was something. They started with Sweets, who Jack just assumed had never been on the wrong side of the law. Apparently, though, he was wrong.

"Well, uh – it was college, first of all, so things were a little different then."

"You mean way back in 2004?" Jack asked, which got a laugh.

Sweets smiled. "Very funny. No, I mean _I _was a little different then. But uh… Indecent exposure. Streaking, actually."

The laughter went up a notch at that, and Jack felt himself starting to relax. Tied up in the hot sun with Booth as a partner and only Angela to guide him to safety? Not a great way to spend the afternoon. But hanging around the campfire answering stupid questions was probably something he could handle, more or less.

Booth and Dr. Brennan were on opposite sides of the campfire, which for some reason really bugged him. And Angela was off in space again, sitting between Booth and Tripp… Jack took another breath, silently ordering himself to get his head back in the conversation.

Cam was next, but she just shook her head. "No way – I told you, I was a good girl."

"Not _that_ good," Booth quipped, but he shut up when Cam gave him a look.

"Sorry to disappoint you guys – no arrests for this girl."

"There's no way the bass player for Phallic Friction didn't at least bust up a motel room somewhere along the line," Sweets insisted.

She shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint my fans, guys. Who's next?"

Booth was next in line, but he shook his head. "Same here," he said quickly, and if that was Booth's best poker face, Jack definitely wanted in on that game. "Clean as the driven snow. Ange?"

Angela just stared at him. "Hang on there, buddy – I'm gonna have to go with dare on that one."

Booth looked at her blankly, but Jack knew exactly where she was headed. He grinned.

"What? What do you mean, dare?"

"I mean – you're totally lying. So if you're not gonna tell us the truth, you have to take a dare."

"I'm telling the truth, all right? Never arrested. Mostly," he added under his breath, just loud enough for the rest of the group to hear.

"That's what I thought," Angela said dryly. "See – don't try to put anything over on me, Seeley Booth. So, do we get the story or are you taking the dare?"

He looked up at the instructors helplessly. "Nobody said anything about truth or dare – can she do that?"

Tripp shrugged. "Don't ask us – everyone else seems okay with it, it's up to the group."

Since no one else was leaping to his rescue, Booth finally shrugged. "Fine – dare."

Angela grinned at him. "Oh, I am so getting that story out of you before the week's out." She looked around the fire, building the suspense – something Jack knew firsthand she was uniquely gifted at. Finally, she rolled her eyes and Jack couldn't help but feel a little disappointed – she was letting him off easy.

"Fine – Go sit by Brennan."

Booth looked doubtful. "Is that it?"

"Just go over there, all right?"

He did, so Jack had to move over to make room – and then had to move over some more, because Booth was sitting a good two feet away from his partner. Angela sighed.

"A little closer, please?"

Booth scooted closer, then looked at Angela grudgingly. "Okay?"

Angela looked undecided, but it seemed like Brennan was about to head for the hills so, thankfully, she nodded.

"Okay. For now."

Which made it Brennan's turn. She paused for a few seconds, definitely looking more uncomfortable than Jack had seen her in a good long time.

"I was only arrested once, when I was sixteen. So ultimately it was expunged from my record."

Booth looked at her in surprise. "Wow – what'd you do, Bones? Break into the chem lab for some late-night squint science?"

She hesitated, but only for a second. "I was arrested for vandalism, after I dumped cow's blood on the altar at St. Vincent's Cathedral – near where I grew up. And I broke some things." She paused. "And I also stole one of the saints and put him in a neighbor's trash bin."

Booth's eyes went wider than flying saucers and his eyebrows almost shot off the top of his head.

"You _what?"_

She turned to look at him defiantly. "There were extenuating circumstances which I don't care to discuss. But I don't believe in God, and I didn't then – so whatever significance you bring to the story, did not hold true for me."

"Bones, you threw blood on an altar. _In a church. _Geez. How can you not see that's a bad thing?"

Sweets interrupted. "We're not actually here to pass judgment, Agent Booth – we're just trying to open up a little. No one should be persecuted for being honest."

"Well, no – sure. Not like they should be persecuted for dumping blood on an altar and stealing a saint," Booth said, looking significantly at Brennan, who just gave a little eye roll of her own and kept quiet.

When it was Jack's turn, he thought about making something up before he gave up on the idea as too much effort. What the hell.

"I Ferris Bueller'd my dad's car when I was seventeen," he said.

Brennan looked at Booth for an explanation.

"He took it for a joyride," Booth told her. "Then wrecked it?" the agent looked to Jack for confirmation.

Jack nodded. "Oh yeah – totaled it. Only unlike Bueller, I was in it when it wrecked. Head-on collision, cherry red '66 Cobra versus tractor trailer."

Angela stared at him. "Oh my god – were you all right?"

He thought for a second, remembering the speed and the rain and the road. And the pain – he remembered that pretty well, too.

"Broken ribs, internal bleeding, busted my head up pretty good – I was unconscious for a couple days."

"And your father still had you arrested?" Sweets asked, in that shrink tone Jack was coming to know a little too well.

"People call my old man a lot of things, but they don't call him soft. Yeah, he had me arrested as soon as I came to – I was convicted of grand theft auto, it's on my record and everything – no expunging that baby. I did a lotta community service that year, I'll tell you that much."

Nobody said anything for a few seconds after that, and Jack was starting to feel uncomfortable. He looked up at the sky, noting that the moon was high overhead now.

"So… Aren't we supposed to be hiking or something? Or do we have to wait until everyone's completely exhausted for that?"

Tripp and Belle exchanged a look, and Jack got that uneasy feeling again. There wasn't any reason to, of course – he'd been doing night hikes since he was a kid, in remote places all over the world. Just listen to the bugs, focus on the trail, and he'd be fine.

* * *

The hike took about an hour, traveling straight up to the top of the island. It was a warm night, damp sea air on the back of his neck and the night sounds all around them – owls, bats, crickets, mice and other unidentified rodents scurrying across the path every so often. Once they'd almost reached the top, the path was blocked by two giant granite boulders placed shoulder to shoulder, a small space of light in between.

Jack's blood pressure ramped up about sixteen notches when he saw the sliver of light, remembering Sweets's question earlier: "Are we going up to the Crack?" Jack swallowed, his mouth suddenly very, very dry.

Shit.

Belle stopped them about a foot from the boulders, her voice hushed.

"So, this is the Crack," she said, confirming Jack's suspicions. "We come out here on the full moon, and as corny as it sounds, it's kind of our version of a rebirth – you start from this kind of narrow perspective, and really try to think about what you'd like to leave behind. Move up through the Crack, and when you emerge you're confronted with an entirely new, wide open world of possibilities."

Jack waited for someone to laugh, for Booth to make a joke or Brennan to point out that it was impossible for people to be born twice… But no one said anything. His heart was hammering in his ears, and he had a nest of hornets – _Vespa mandarinia_, the world's largest hornet, the one with the giant stinger and the six separate toxins all designed to drop a man where he stood – roiling in his gut. Suddenly, breathing seemed a hell of a lot more complicated than it had just a few minutes before.

He felt Angela's eyes on him, but he just shook his head – willing her to stay quiet. Or no – maybe say something, tell them all, so he wouldn't have to.

Tripp spoke up. "Are any of you claustrophobic?"

And Jack should have raised his hand, should have screamed "YES!" But he didn't. Angela was watching him, waiting, but he knew she wouldn't say anything because she wanted him to be a grown up and speak for himself.

Zack would have outed him in a heartbeat, he suddenly realized. Zack would have said,

"Hodgins is claustrophobic – he got rid of his shower and installed a giant bathtub after he was trapped in the car with Dr. Brennan. And he won't ride in elevators anymore, or get his jacket out of the closet without the light on and the door open as wide as possible."

And it would be out, everyone would know and he wouldn't have to do this. He would yell at Zack, and Zack would say,

"But it's true," in his most logical robotronic Zack voice, and god, how he missed that voice.

They approached the mouth of the Crack – Tripp in front, Belle at the back, Sweets second in line followed by Cam, Brennan, Angela, Jack, and Booth. He'd tried to outmaneuver so he wouldn't be next to Booth, didn't want to hear that voice mocking him if he fell apart, but in the end that was the way it worked out.

They moved forward.

Angela paused just before the entrance, and he heard her whisper something that he couldn't hear and knew he wasn't meant to, and he stood back and let her have her space. And then she was in and it was his turn, so he closed his eyes and tried to think of what he wanted to leave behind but really, mostly all he wanted to leave behind was _this – _this stupid crack in the rock and the terror it was inspiring.

There was no room to maneuver once he was in. He had to go in sideways, his shoulders pressed back and his chest crushed tight and his arms stretched out on either side to make himself thinner. There was granite in his nose, scraping up against his cheekbones, pressing into his sternum and his groin and his knees. Up ahead, Tripp had some problems getting through – not because he was freaked out, just because he was a goddamn giant, but eventually they heard him call from what sounded like somewhere up above.

"Made it!"

Sweets' voice came next, then Brennan's, but now he'd reached a tight spot and there was no light and Jack's pant leg snagged on a rock. He told himself to breathe, just breathe, it was only a few feet more and he'd be out, but there were the hornets in his gut again and he was shaking, his palms sweating against the rock, no light and no space and no air.

"Jack," he heard Angela say, from somewhere a thousand miles off. "I can see light up ahead – we're almost there."

Booth was just behind him, shimmying sideways, and Jack waited to be the butt of the joke, and hated himself and hated Booth and hated Zack for not being here to suffer through the whole thing with him. But the joke didn't come – he felt a hand at his leg, and suddenly his pant leg wasn't snagged anymore and Booth was talking low in his ear.

"You're okay, man. One step at a time, you're almost out of it."

He felt Angela take his hand, and he crept another foot – the space so small now that he was pressed sideways with his chest constricted and his head swimming.

And another foot. He could hear the others up ahead, and he thought again of Zack – Zack would like this, he decided. He wouldn't understand the point of most of it, but it'd do him good. As he reached the opening, he realized that he was crying; he reached up and wiped his tears away roughly before anyone could see, and when he finally came through his hand was still in Angela's and the world was wide open.

The moon fell on a deep black sea far below, his friends seated together at the top of it all, waiting for him. He sat on the cool granite, and Angela kept her hand in his and rested her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, and the hornets in his stomach disappeared. His heart slowed. Opened them again, and his friends were still there, and Angela's hand was still in his, and the world was still wide open around him. Booth came over and Jack watched him sit down beside Brennan without a word, and maybe it was just the moon or the darkness, but it seemed to him that she moved in a little closer once the FBI man was beside her. Jack smiled to himself.

They made it through the Crack.

TBC

_**Phew – That was a very difficult day. Let me know if it fell flat or felt OOC or just seemed to go on and on, I really do just love the feedback! Thanks for reading!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Please note: Rating for this chapter is definitely a capital M. _

_First off – sincere apologies for the whole week it's taken to get to the next installment. Sadly, priority has to go to the writing that pays the bills, and there was a big deadline this week. Next week looks easier, and I should have part six up in the next few days at the latest. Thanks for the incredibly kind comments everyone is leaving, I'm really pleased folks seem to be enjoying the story. And now, without further ado… _

* * *

Day Five: Angela

When she was nine, Angela went to summer camp for the first time. She'd been on overnights plenty of times before – traveling with her father, on weekend getaways with the artist colony where she lived when she was younger, on overnights with friends… Angela was no homebody, even then, so a week away from her family was hardly a big deal.

Predictably enough, she loved summer camp – the canoeing and the swimming and all the new faces, all the colors and textures, sounds and smells… There was something going on all the time, always something to watch or someone to sketch, something new and exciting around every corner. Oh yeah, she was totally into summer camp.

For about six hours.

The love affair ended when Angela decided she'd rather go for a walk in the woods alone than go swimming with the other campers. She was told in no uncertain terms that hiking alone wasn't an option – and neither was swimming alone, eating alone, or even just plain sitting alone. On the mile-long roster of fun-filled activities offered at Camp Okeegobee, solitude definitely was not on the list.

She ran away the next day.

When they brought her back, she ran away again. The next day, her father came and got her. He'd been a little confused at first – after all, she'd been running off to some mysterious destination or other from the time she was old enough to crawl out of his arms. Angie just wasn't the kind of kid who got homesick, so what exactly was the deal?

It was the year she got her first period and her breasts started growing – she cut her hair short in May, announced to her father that she was absolutely not wearing a bra and preferred to be addressed as Angelo from then on. They sat together in her father's VW bus, Angela sitting curled up in the passenger's seat while her father drove them home.

"I didn't miss _you, _Dad," she'd told him when he asked, rolling her eyes like he'd suggested something completely absurd. "I missed my time. My space." She looked at him seriously, already a girl who knew her heart very, very well. "I need a lot of space, Dad."

She may have gotten taller and left her training bra in the dust, but the whole space thing never changed all that much. Which was why that three-hour break Tripp and Belle had given them the day before was such a big deal for her. All it took was three hours on her own, and Angela had been able to take off into the woods with her sketch pad and no one in sight, and just do her thing. Get re-centered, remind herself who she was – because sometimes, surrounded by dead bodies and scientists and crime fighting, it got a little tough to remember.

She was Angela Montenegro, damn it.

She didn't get freaked out jumping into cold water; she didn't get pissy about being on an island or pooping in the woods or getting up at the crack of dawn. Okay, strike that last one – she really did hate getting up early. Nevertheless, she could do this. But – and this was the most important part – she was gonna do it her way. No more crappy games yelling directions at Booth and Jack while they tried to prove their manhood by finding Easter eggs blindfolded on a deserted island. That was most definitely _not _her way.

And so, when Angela woke up on day five (at the crack of dawn), she was happy to find that she was not actually feeling completely homicidal. Okay, not ready to exactly embrace the whole running-through-the-woods-and-jumping-into-freezing-water thing, but… well, she wasn't homicidal. Which she took as a definite step in the right direction.

Brennan was already up, her sleeping bag rolled up neatly in the corner and her gear organized beside it. Cam was sitting up in her own sleeping bag, glaring at her reflection in a tiny compact while she tried to rake a brush through her thick dark hair.

Tried being the key word here.

Angela winced just looking at her. "Wow," she said.

Cam turned and, before she remembered that she was supposed to be the boss and keep morale up, yada yada yada, she glared at Angela. Now _she_ definitely looked homicidal.

"I think I'm gonna have to shave my head," she said, with just enough humor in her voice to set Angela at ease.

"Well, before you try that, hang on." Angela scooted out of her sleeping bag and over to her duffel, rooting through for a minute or two before she finally emerged, triumphant. She held three tie-dyed bandanas over her head like white flags, and grinned. She'd led a tie-dying workshop for a bunch of ten-year-olds at the local rec center a few weeks before, which meant she had a lot more of these things than she ever anticipated needing.

"A hippie's best friend," she said with a smile.

Cam looked skeptical, but she didn't put up a fight when Angela came over and deftly ran a brush through the tangled strands, pulling it into a ponytail and then topping it with one of the bandanas.

"There. Just consider this the latest in summer fashion – at least, in the Maine woods."

Cam actually smiled at this – and not one of those scary morale-boosting smiles she'd been giving since she got out here, the ones that made her eyes get really big and her eyebrows slide halfway up her forehead.

"Thanks, Angela. You're a godsend."

Angela shrugged, wrangling her own hair into the same 'do. "I know, I know. So, are you ready for another day of this?"

There was a moment of silence before Cam took a deep breath, got that scary-ass smile working again, and stood up.

"Oh yeah. Can't wait."

Like the first morning, the boys were already awake when Cam and Angela came out of the tent in matching bandanas. Brennan and Belle were with them – Belle was doing cute little yoga moves with Sweets and Tripp while Brennan argued about something with Jack and Booth, her voice rising just a little as testament to her annoyance.

"I already told you, I didn't believe in God – so there really wasn't anything so terrible about what I did," she insisted.

Jack just laughed, but Booth looked fit to be tied. "But it's disrespectful of other _people, _Bones. Forget the God thing, it's still upsetting when someone comes and dumps pig's blood all over a guy's church. I just want to know why you did it."

Angela and Cam joined them, and there was this split second where she caught Jack's eye and he smiled – not like a we're-together-now smile, and not a pining-after-her smile, just a… Smile. A good, solid Jack smile. She returned the favor, taking a second to assess the situation. Five days in the woods and pretty much everyone's personal hygiene had taken a nosedive, but Jack definitely took the cake. Another week and he'd be rockin' the full-on Grizzly Adams look, but even now he had a pretty respectable beard going.

With some serious restraint, Angela let the smile go and moved on to the rest of the group. Booth looked… well, he still looked pretty damned tasty, despite the patchy stubble and a less-than-sexy funk that, at this point, everyone was equally guilty of. Between the salt water, sun, sweat, and that crappy biodegradable soap they used, it was getting downright homey around the campfires at night.

Brennan's ponytail was cock-eyed and her hair was sort of matted, so Angela grabbed her before the games could begin, pushed her onto the nearest rock, and attacked her hair.

"Ow – Angela, what are you doing?"

"I'm fixing you, sweetie. I know you're a world renowned forensic anthropologist and a feminist and a strong, independent woman – "

"And a bestselling author," Brennan added, which made Angela smile a little.

"And a bestselling author," Angela repeated. "But your hair looks like homeless hair. And nobody wants that."

She adjusted the ponytail and topped it with the third bandana from her supply, then pulled her friend to her feet and turned her around so they were eye to eye.

"The men don't seem that worried about their hair," Brennan said. "Anthropologically speaking – "

Angela sighed. "Sweetie, I managed to get out of bed this morning without hating the planet and everyone on it, for the first time since we got here. Let's not push it."

"I should stop talking," Brennan interpreted.

"Only anthropologically," Angela said quickly. "If you want to talk about you vandalizing churches or wanting to sleep with my ex-fiance or dating rock stars, by all means, talk away."

Talking was pretty much out at that point, however, because it was time for the far from eagerly awaited run and dip. True to her resolution the day before, this time Angela did her own thing when it was time to head out, refusing to be a sheep any longer. Or a lemming, she guessed, was more apt since they always ended up jumping off a cliff at the end of the trail. She grabbed her sketchpad and her towel, laced up her sneakers, and ran for all she was worth. There was even a few seconds there where she was actually in the lead, before Sweets came out of nowhere and left everyone else in the dust.

This time, there was no pier to jump off – just a sort of rocky overhang that Tripp swore was safe as could be. As she stripped down, Angela thought again of her resolutions alone the day before. She thought of the things she'd left behind at the Crack – the fear, the guilt, the sadness. When it was time to jump this time, she didn't think, didn't take Jack's hand or wait to be talked into it or worry about what would happen when she landed. She dropped her bra and panties with the rest of her clothes, shot past everyone else, and dove.

The tips of her fingers hit first, and she tried to focus on the feeling of the cold as it swallowed her, stem to stern. When she came up, she realized that pretty much everyone was staring at her, of course. Sweets, Tripp, and Belle were already in the water, while Jack, Booth, Cam, and Brennan looked on from the rocks. Jack was grinning, that sort of proud grin he sometimes got, like he thought she was the coolest person he'd ever met. It struck her that it had been a while since she'd seen that grin, and she hadn't realized how much she missed it.

"Nice dive, Ange," he shouted from above.

She smiled. "Thanks," she shouted back. She was shivering, but still a little high from the leap and the cold and the whole naked thing. She swam back to the rocks in long, sure strokes, and was relieved to find Jack waiting at the water's edge with a towel.

"Is it cold?" he asked, and she didn't put her hands over her breasts or look away from him, just stood waist deep in the freezing water with her back to the rest of the group.

She shrugged. "It's not bad," though of course he could see that her nipples were tight as pebbles, and she had goosebumps up and down her arms. "Can I have my towel?"

He nodded, and then he gave her this sex smile he used to give her when they were making love – like he could see right through her, and it wasn't quite a grin and it might have been a smirk, except for the way his eyes met hers.

"Yep," he said, and handed her the towel. He didn't try to pretend he wasn't looking at her – she'd always loved how sort of certain he was with her. You would think a guy like Jack – a guy who made his living with bugs and slime – would be a disaster around women, but… well, he definitely wasn't a disaster.

"You going in?" she asked him, and he laughed a little, nodding ruefully.

"Hell, yeah. I need something to cool me down after that," and he stripped off his shirt and sweats and ran off to join the others.

Angela climbed back up the hill, got dressed, and sat sketching until it was time to go. The sky had taken on this kind of pale golden glow, streaks of tangerine and deep pink on the horizon, and she was caught for a second by the way Brennan was watching something Angela couldn't see, off in the distance. Her friend's hair was down around her shoulders, dripping wet, and her neck was arched in this perfect line. Angela closed her eyes, trying to memorize the posture so she could capture it later. She set pencil to paper, and was just starting to make some progress when it was time to go. Regretfully, she packed up pad and pencils, and followed the others back to camp.

* * *

That day, Angela picked Booth's name out of the hat. Cam and Sweets ended up together, which left Jack and Brennan. Ange thought of the day before – Booth leading the charge, barking orders and generally getting her completely discombobulated while she tried to direct them in that stupid blindfolded game.

She took a deep breath. Well, maybe yesterday Booth was the commando from hell, but she wasn't about to spend another day like that.

Damn it.

They circled up, and Booth immediately tried to take over again.

"Since it worked out so well with me in charge yesterday," he announced, "We should probably stick with that. Don't fix it if it ain't broke, right?"

Brennan shook her head. "That isn't fair – you and Cam both had your chance yesterday. Logically speaking, Hodgins and I are the only team who haven't had an opportunity to lead the group."

"Yeah, but Bones – did you see how fast we got where we were goin' yesterday? Cam and me had it wired… I'm telling you, we should just stick with the teams we had."

Angela glared at him, and he seemed to realize that he'd stepped in it.

"I mean – not that I'm not glad to be partnered up with you, Ange. I just mean, you know, you and Hodgins seemed…"

She raised her eyebrows at him, and he trailed off.

"Okay, fine – Bones and Hodgins are in charge," he finally said grudgingly.

Thank God. Jack and Brennan took the lead, with Brennan in the bow and Jack at the stern, both of them totally absorbed with charts and compasses and all that other stuff Angela didn't give a rat's ass about. Booth took the stern for the two of them, and Angela got in, faced forward, and took a deep breath. The sun was up over the water now, the ocean a deep, deep blue, no breeze and no boats and the only sound the banter between friends and the cry of the gulls in the distance.

And Booth, telling her how it was gonna be.

"So, Ange, I think we should keep as close to Bones and Hodgins as we can – you know, in case they run into any trouble."

She didn't turn around immediately, because she didn't want to beat him. She liked Booth – a lot, actually. Beating him wasn't the way to go, no matter how satisfying it might be at the time. Clearly, he just needed a little guidance.

"Listen, Sweetie," she said, purposely choosing the term she usually saved for Brennan. "This whole soldier of fortune, conquering hero thing you had goin' yesterday?"

His eyebrows went up a little, but he didn't say anything.

"Yeah. We're not doing that today. Today, we're doing our own little experiment."

He definitely looked uneasy at that. "What kind of experiment?"

She looked him square in the eye, aware that everyone else had started paddling and it was clearly killing Booth to be left behind. He had his paddle poised over the water and those sexy brown eyes on the horizon, watching everyone else move out.

"Today, Seeley Booth, I am in charge. You're officially at the mercy of an artist, Sweetie. So deal with it."

He looked around like he was trying to find someone to save him, but everyone else was long gone. Angela returned her gaze to the front, unable to hide a smile when she heard Booth mutter,

"I hate Outward Bound," under his breath.

Booth actually did surprisingly well taking time to smell the roses, once he knew he had no choice. He certainly did a hell of a lot better than Brennan ever would have, Angela reflected. Once he realized there was no way Angela was gonna be rushed through the day, it was like he just kind of let it all go. They kept close enough to everyone else to avoid getting lost or yelled at by the instructors, but their pace was slow and she was surprised by how quiet he was for a lot of the trek.

She turned around at one point, after he'd been silent for a particularly long time, and smiled when she realized that he was watching Jack and Brennan up ahead.

"So, we have something in common," she said.

He looked at her curiously. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"We both want to sleep with Brennan."

He dropped his paddle in the water at that one, and it took a good five minutes of maneuvering before they finally got it back.

"We what?" he asked, once he had the paddle back in hand and they were pointed in the right direction once more. "Geez, Angela – why the hell would you say something like that?"

She glanced back at him, rolling her eyes. "Hey – you're the one who said it. The other night, around the campfire?"

She waited until the light bulb finally went on – maybe three seconds passed, before it finally clicked.

"Oh – right. But that was just fooling around – I mean hell, Jack said he wanted to sleep with Sweets."

She didn't argue the point, pausing to let things get comfortable again before she said anything else. When she did, she purposely kept her face forward, didn't change the rhythm of her paddle in the water.

"Yeah, but you must've thought about it once or twice. I mean, you guys work together a lot. Life or death situations. You can't tell me in all these years, it's never even crossed your mind."

He didn't say anything, but they had a good hour or more left of paddling, so Angela figured she'd just wait him out. It didn't take long.

"What about you?" he asked, and she couldn't keep from smiling at the curiosity in his voice. "Were you – y'know, serious about what you said? About wanting to sleep with Bones?"

"Of course," she said immediately. "Well, I mean not really now, because we've been friends so long that I don't really think about her that way. But – I mean, just look at her. The line of her neck, those cheekbones, the way she kind of chews on her bottom lip when she's nervous…"

"And that line she gets in her forehead, when she's thinking about something," Booth added.

Angela smiled to herself. Bingo.

"She's got those eyes, too – y'know?" he asked, and Angela just gave him a quiet "Mm hmm" to encourage him along.

"I mean – I've dated lots of good looking women. Trust me – really good looking women. A _lot _of them," he said emphatically, like she'd argued the point or something. "But I've never seen eyes like hers – not just the color, but there's that like… I don't know. Not intelligence, but…" he fell silent, trying to sort it out. Angela was quiet, waiting for him to continue. "She just has this thing, where she's almost like a little girl, you know? I mean – not in a creepy way, but in this vulnerable, kind of sweet way." He paused.

Angela turned around subtly and noted that he was staring off in Brennan's direction again. He shrugged, bringing himself back to earth. "I don't know, it's hard to explain – she just has pretty eyes."

She had to face forward again so he didn't see the grin that was practically splitting her face in two. She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop smiling. God, the two of them just freakin' killed her.

* * *

Once they were beached and had a chance to scarf down some really bad camp food, Tripp announced that they had a little over an hour to kill before the next big adventure. Before he could send them out into the woods tied together with only a stick of chewing gum to guide them to safety or something, Angela stood.

"So, we meet back here in an hour?" she asked, and there was only a second's hesitation before Tripp seemed to sense that she _really, _really wanted this hour.

"One hour – we've got a climbing instructor meeting us here at eleven."

Fine by her. She grabbed her bag, bid everyone a fond farewell, and headed for the hills. And it wasn't because she didn't love each and every one of them better than the sunshine itself, it was just…

Space.

She followed the shoreline until she found a little clearing on the rocks, out of sight of everyone else but not so far that she couldn't hear them calling for her when it was time to go back.

It was noon now, so that meant a full July sun overhead, hot on the granite rocks and reflected back in flecks of white gold off the water. Angela considered getting out her supplies, but it turned out she didn't really feel like sketching. She lay back on the smooth granite, savoring the warmth and texture through her t-shirt. Closed her eyes, and listened to the water lapping softly at the rocks, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, the distant laughter of her friends. She thought of Jack for a second: that sexy smile he'd given her that morning; the feel of his hand in hers the night before; the way he always seemed to know when to back off a little, when she'd never actually dated anyone before who got that.

And then, somewhere not too far off, she heard a branch break. Then nothing, but she knew someone was there – and in all honestly, she knew it was him.

She sat up, and sure enough there he stood.

"Sorry, I – uh, was just looking for some space," he said, and she gave a little twist of a smile at his choice of words.

"Well, you found some."

He stood still, obviously not clear on whether she was kicking him out or not. She rolled her eyes.

"So are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna sit down?"

He looked surprised, but he nodded after a second. "No – I mean, yeah. Sure, if you don't mind."

She scooted over so he could sit beside her, and for a minute or two neither of them said anything. Jack scrounged around in his day pack until he seemed to find what he was looking for, and pulled out a small block of something wrapped in cellophane. She raised her eyebrows at the sight – the only remotely edible thing they'd had since the trip started.

"Is that a brownie?"

He grinned, just barely looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as he unwrapped his treasure. "Yes, it is."

"How'd you get an extra brownie?"

Still the grin, but now there was a little bit of a twinkle in his eye to go along with it. "I stole it," he said casually.

Her own smile widened, until she knew she was grinning like an idiot. "So, were you planning on sharing that brownie?"

He popped a piece in his mouth with a smirk, looking her full on this time.

"What'll it get me?"

She rolled her eyes, staunchly refusing to play that game. Reaching for her own bag, she focused on getting out her supplies and ignoring Jack Hodgins.

"Fine," he said grudgingly, but the word was seriously lacking in weight. He tore the rest of the brownie in half and gave her the bigger piece.

She pushed her pack away again, and accepted the offering. "Thanks," she said softly.

They ate in companionable silence, his shoulder against hers and a cooling breeze coming up off the water.

"So, you and Booth seem to be getting along pretty well," he said a little too casually, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, Jack, we're great. He's really sexy, too. And single. Did you know he's in the FBI? I am _totally _marrying that guy."

Jack rolled his eyes right back at her, breaking into another grin. "Shut up," he said, without malice. "I just said you seem to be getting along."

"Well, so are you and Brennan."

"Who's also sexy and single," he noted. "Hey – maybe we could have a double wedding!" He paused, and she could tell he was debating whether or not to say something. After a second or two, his courage won out. "Oh wait – I forgot. You don't do weddings."

He was looking at her sideways, a little half-smile on his face, waiting to see if she would laugh or get pissed off. She punched him in the shoulder.

"Oh, you are so paying for that. Seriously, seriously paying," she said, but she was laughing when she said it.

"We'll see," he said, and that was when things changed.

Because all of a sudden he was right there, and he had the crazy beard and the Wildman hair and he smelled _really, _really bad, but she knew that smile and she knew exactly how his lips would taste, where his hands would fall when they kissed, what it would feel like to have his body pressed against her, where he was hard and where he was soft and where she could run her tongue to make him moan before they'd even started.

They sat there, looking at each other, and she knew that the first move would have to be hers and she would have to mean it and… To hell with it.

She leaned in and ran her fingers over his face – through his beard, along his jawline, letting her thumb trace the line of his upper lip while he just watched her, never took his eyes from hers. Everything went completely silent, and she didn't realize she was holding her breath until his lips were almost on hers and she breathed in, long and deep, and made the final move.

They kissed and his beard was rough on her face and his hands were in her hair, pulling her closer, and he kind of gasped when she pushed his t-shirt up, felt the muscles of his belly tighten. He pulled her shirt over her head and then they had kind of a battle with her sports bra (the single most unsexy undergarment in history, she thought dryly) before they finally managed to toss that aside, and suddenly his lips were following the line of her collarbone, his teeth teased her nipples, one after the other, and then moved down the flat plane of her stomach.

She pulled him up before he could go lower, suddenly breathless, something that had just been the tiniest smolder a minute before building to an all-out blaze at one hell of a pace. He took his shirt off and actually laughed a little when Angela began working on his zipper before he'd even had a chance to kiss her again. The laugh died in his throat, turning into a tortured moan when his fly was undone and she reached past his jockey shorts to find him hard and ready in her hands.

"Jesus, Angela," he whispered, his mouth at her neck when she peeled off his shorts and held his shaft in her hand. He was sitting awkwardly on the rock until she pushed him back so that he lay flat, naked and waiting. She leaned down, kissed his hip and then made her way along the hipbone with his hand in her hair, wetting her lips before she took his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip while she cupped his balls in one hand, teasing them with a fingertip.

She could feel him twitch in her mouth, and he quickly grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her back to eye level with him.

"Jesus," he repeated, now that they were eye to eye again.

He was naked; she was not. The sun beat down and the rock was hard beneath them, and Jack reached down to unbutton her shorts, smiling a little when he realized she wore no underwear. She pushed her hips off the rock so he could take off her shorts, and then they were both naked and he was looking at her, those blue eyes not missing a thing, until she couldn't stand the weight of those eyes. She kissed him, hard this time, reaching down to stroke him again before she turned over and lay on her belly. She raised herself so that she was on all fours, and looked back at him to make sure he got it.

He did.

He moved behind her, rose up so that he was kneeling as he ran a hand over her ass, laying kisses all along her spine. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound when he reached between her legs where Angela knew he would find her more than slick, more than ready. He pushed first one finger inside her, then two, ran his thumb over her clit until she bucked back against his hand and then he was behind her, positioned there, and then one perfect thrust and he was inside, his hands on her hips and Angela's eyes closed, every part of her focused on this instant, this feeling, the pain of the granite under her knees and her elbows, his body pressed tight to her before he began to move. He pulled out almost completely, and then slammed back in again, so deep he took her breath away, and there was the sound of their bodies moving together and the sound of his breath and then –

A sob. No other way to describe it, really. A cry, ripped deeper than he could even reach, and Jack stopped moving immediately and Angela only realized at that moment that she was the one who made that sound. She was crying, her elbows and knees bleeding, her nose running, exposed to the world with her ass in the air and nowhere to run. Jack pulled out without a word, and she had never, ever been so empty.

He rubbed her back, guiding her back to the hard ground before he grabbed his t-shirt and gently pulled it over her head. Then, he lay down beside her with his forehead on hers and ran a hand along her face, her arm, her back.

"Ange," he said softly. "I'm sorry, baby."

She shook her head, completely horrified to find that that made her cry even harder. She didn't even know what she was crying _about, _for God's sake – but she was crying harder. Finally, she shook her head and pulled him into another kiss, aware that her face was wet from tears and her hair was tangled and she hadn't had a shower in days. She pulled him closer, kept kissing him, and lay her leg over his so that his cock was pressed against her but he still wasn't moving.

"I want this," she said softly, looking at him steadily now.

He met her gaze. "Ange, maybe we should – "

But she didn't want to think about should right then. She cut him off with another kiss, guiding him up until he was poised above her, blocking the sun and the ocean and the world around. He held himself that way for a second, studying her, until his arms were shaking from the effort of not moving, and she put her hands on his hips to pull him down, pushed herself up to meet him, and he was finally inside her again. Her eyes sunk closed as the rhythm picked up and she felt the release building, moving in time with him.

He leaned down, his mouth at her ear, his hand tangled between them until his thumb brushed her clit in a perfect counter-stroke.

"That's it, baby," he whispered, and how many times had she heard those words, loved that throaty whisper? "Come for me, Angela."

She felt the wave then, the lights flicker and the world go dim while she clenched around him, holding on tight, trying to stay quiet and keep the tears at bay. She opened her eyes and he was still watching her, until she saw that he was close and his eyes finally closed. She watched as he bit his lower lip, felt the pressure building inside again at his own loss of control, and she began to move harder, meeting his quickened pace.

"God, Jack," she whispered, moaned, fought not to cry out. He came then, his lips crushed to hers and their bodies pressed tight, not a hair's breadth of space to be found between them.

They'd barely finished before she heard Tripp calling for them. Somewhere along the line it had gotten cooler out, the sun disappearing behind the clouds as the breeze picked up. Angela reluctantly handed him back his t-shirt, and they dressed in silence. Before they left, though, Jack stopped her with his hand on her arm, looking at her with those dead serious blue eyes again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she liked the fact that he didn't look away when he said it.

She nodded, hoping to God she wasn't about to start crying again. "Yeah. I mean – this… This doesn't mean everything's all fixed, Jack."

He nodded. "I know. I know it doesn't."

"I still…" she shrugged, at a loss. "I don't know. I don't know what this means, or what I want, or…"

He nodded again, still serious, still watching her. For the first time, he looked down for a second, with a little shrug.

"It's okay, Ange. I mean – really. We'll figure it out. You don't need to have the answers right now."

She nodded, but they held hands on the walk back, and she liked that. And that was something, right?

* * *

It all started after Zack left. Which was admittedly weird, because it wasn't like he was their kid or something. But in a bizarro kind of way, he sort of… well, he was what made them a family. When Angela first started going over to Jack's place, Zack would just randomly show up – no warning call, and of course no clue that he might be interrupting something. And so Jack had a talk with him, and Angela was sure it had been completely lacking in tact or subtlety because for two weeks after that, Zack didn't come around at all. So, Angela convinced Jack to go have _another _talk with him.

After that, even though he just lived over the garage, Zack always called before he came over.

"Are you guys having sex tonight?" he'd ask, in that bizarre point-blank way he had.

If they weren't otherwise occupied, Zack would show up with pizza or beer or, on one very weird night, a carafe of zinfandel and the Buffy the Vampire Slayer board game.

At eleven-thirty exactly, he'd get up, rinse out his dishes, and make the long walk home alone.

Angela grew up around artists and musicians and an endless supply of extended family, blood ties real or imagined. But the three of them felt… solid. At the end of a long day of horror and death and all that went along with it, she liked knowing that she could go home to their house and laugh and cook and hang out, safe and loved and part of something that mattered.

Until, of course, she found out that Zack had been sucked in by some lunatic serial killer who somehow got him to do his bidding. After Zack went to the institution, Angela would sneak up to his apartment over the garage sometimes before Jack got home, and she knew it was stupid but she'd just kind of sit there, on Zack's couch in the middle of Zack's things, and sometimes she'd cry and sometimes she'd just… remember. Or try to imagine what the hell he'd been thinking getting involved with Gormogon.

Jack didn't like it when she did that. He was sweet at first, but he didn't want to talk about Zack and he didn't want to remember the good times, and he didn't want to talk about what he was feeling or even how it had affected them. He wanted to find Grayson and get married – that seemed to be his solution for everything. He didn't sleep, and it seemed like the Gravedigger dreams were getting worse, but even then he still wouldn't talk to her.

The fact of the matter was, Grayson was a convenient excuse, but they'd been falling apart ever since Zack left. And Angela didn't know how a great fuck on a deserted Maine island was gonna change that.

But it was a start.

* * *

The climbing instructor was named Jeremy. He was tall and dark and impossibly good looking, and he really brought out the best in Belle and Tripp, who kind of relaxed and joked around while they led them on an endless hike to the middle of the island. Where, it turns out, they were planning on dropping everyone into a bottomless granite quarry, because… well, because it was Outward Bound. And this was apparently what these people did for fun.

They stood looking over the edge, into the abyss, and Angela saw Sweets kind of nudge Tripp.

"Hey, what happened to the ropes course?" he asked.

Tripp smiled, but not without compassion. "You've done the ropes course like a dozen times, Lance. Time to stretch some muscles."

He walked away, and Angela couldn't help but smile when Sweets said quietly,

"But I really like the ropes course."

Sex on the beach in the middle of the day was all well and good, but it didn't take long for Angela to realize that the aftermath was gonna be an issue. Because, she realized after a minute or two standing on the cliff, that she smelled like sex. And not just regular sex, either – she smelled like no-holds-barred, doggie style, five day funk sex. She had rock burn on her knees and she really wished she was wearing underwear, and there was no question in her mind that _everyone _knew exactly what she and Jack had been up to on their break.

Still, she tried to focus on what was going on around them, because… well, dropping into a granite quarry technically seemed to require a little focus.

She wasn't afraid of heights – never had been. Sweets, on the other hand, was sweating way too much and had gone about three shades whiter than usual, which was really saying something. Brennan looked a little nervous herself, but everyone else seemed… well, focused.

Angela looked up once to find Jack staring at her, and he didn't look away when their eyes met. Instead, he gave her a little smile, and she felt strangely better. Better than she had in a long time, actually. She returned the smile, the whole focus thing suddenly easier than it had been before. Tripp started to harness her up and, god, she really didn't want him near her when she smelled like this – she looked at Jack, and he was there before she could say a word.

"Hey, man – you mind if I do this?" Jack asked Tripp politely. Tripp looked uncertain, but Jack just smiled. "I spent a summer climbing in Nepal a year ago, and I've been spelunking pretty much all over the planet. You can double-check, but I've got this."

Angela gave Tripp an "It's okay" nod, and the instructor backed off. Since Jack already knew why she reeked and was pretty much responsible for it in the first place, she relaxed while he wrapped her in ropes and checked her helmet and double-checked knots and lines and links.

The women went down first, while the guys stayed up top on belay, an instructor spotting each of them just in case. She looked to her left, and smiled at the sight of Booth fussing with Brennan's helmet.

"I think it's too tight," he said, looking her dead in the eye. "Hey," he whistled through his teeth for an instructor. "Can we get a bigger helmet – Bones's eyes are about to pop out of her head here."

Brennan batted his hands away, but Angela saw the way she looked over the edge – it wasn't a good look.

"I'm fine, Booth," she said irritably. "It's supposed to be tight to protect my skull." She looked at Angela. "Is your helmet tight?"

Angela smiled, making an effort not to laugh because it did, actually, look like Brennan's eyes were going to pop out of her head. "Not that tight, Sweetie."

"There, you see?" Booth asked triumphantly, dumping a bag of helmets onto the ground and sorting through until he found a better size.

He unfastened the one Brennan was wearing, and Angela was impressed that she didn't push him away this time and insist on doing it herself. She just stood there with her arms limp at her sides, still looking over the edge uneasily every few seconds.

Once the helmet had been exchanged, Angela watched as Booth stepped a little closer. Completely undeterred by the knowledge that she was eavesdropping, Angela strained to hear him.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he whispered.

"I think I do, Booth," Brennan answered immediately. "It seems as though most of these exercises are compulsory."

He blinked a little at that. "Well, yeah – but if you didn't want to… I mean, _really _didn't want to, we could get you out of it."

Brennan looked at him, and he looked at her, and then damn Jack poked Angela in the ribs with a quirked eyebrow and she had to leave the Brennan/Booth channel and return to her own, regularly scheduled programming.

"Hey," Jack said, with a trace of laughter in his voice like he got sometimes. "Can we focus here?"

She rolled her eyes, because there was no way she'd be swapping out helmets and debating about whether she had to do this.

"I'm focused," she said dryly.

She looked to her right, and Cam was already poised and ready to go. Sweets tried to give the woman some sort of pep talk, but she just gave him that 'Oh please' look she was so good at, and he shut up.

And it was time for the leap.

"Now, you need to communicate with your partner," Tripp shouted over the rising wind. The sun had disappeared behind some menacing looking clouds some time ago, and it was getting damned chilly up on the ledge.

"Use the cues we gave you," the instructor continued. "Remember the line tugs and the language to make sure you keep your partner safe at all times."

Angela stood with her feet on the edge and her back to the chasm, Jack holding her line just a few feet in front of her. She looked to one side and Cam grinned at her – for real this time; looked to the other and Brennan gave her this wide-eyed smile, and the three women leaned backward, beginning the slow descent into space.

* * *

Once the act of actually letting go happened, the rest of the climb was pretty uneventful. Only Sweets had a really hard time with it, but he didn't complain or freak out, he just got quiet. The kid had guts, Angela would give him that much.

And then it was almost dark, everyone was back up on the cliff, and it was time to head back to camp for the night. On the hike back, Angela was so exhausted she could barely put one foot in front of the other, forget trying to pretend she wasn't with Jack – at least for the moment. They walked back with his arm around her shoulders, then sat together at the campfire with him behind her, rubbing the knots out of her aching back while they were tortured with the obligatory Q and A.

Before they got started, though, Tripp had an announcement.

"So, gang, our time is running out here fast. Tomorrow's a pretty big day, and it starts early. I'll be waking everyone at five a.m." Everyone groaned in unison, and he smiled. "I know, I know. But, you get the day off. Sort of. Tomorrow's solo – which means we begin the day with a vow of silence. No one speaks, and Belle and Jeremy and I will take you each to your solo sites, where you'll stay for twenty-four hours."

They'd already been briefed on the solo, of course – twenty-four hours of solitude, with no reading, no music, no TV, very little food. Twenty-four years to think, sleep, sketch… God, she was looking forward to it. Angela looked around the circle, and figured pretty much everyone was ready for a day of rest, though Booth and Brennan both looked kind of antsy about the idea. Of course. Sit and do nothing for a whole day? Nothing to distract them from those big, scary thoughts in their pretty heads? She smiled to herself. Yeah, it would definitely be an interesting day for them.

She'd been hoping that the early morning would mean skipping the night's question, but no such luck. And it wasn't an easy one, like she'd been hoping for. Sweets cleared his throat, looking around the circle before he read the slip of paper aloud.

"Okay – huh. This should be interesting. What is your biggest work-related regret?"

He looked to his left, where Cam was sitting. She took a breath.

"Why do I always have to go first?"

Sweets shrugged. "Just the roll of the dice, I guess."

Cam rolled her eyes. Angela noticed that the new instructor, Jeremy, was getting pretty cozy with their boss – he sat beside her, taking every opportunity to bump her shoulder or touch her arm. Interesting.

"Okay, fine," Cam finally conceded. "Biggest work-related regret." She paused, took a breath. "I guess that would be… Zack. Not watching him more closely, not checking in with him once he got back from Iraq. I knew things weren't right with him, the second he got back to the lab – "

Jack interrupted. "Yeah, but we all knew that. Hell, I _lived _with the guy. He was my best friend. If anyone should've seen it, it should've been me. We can't take responsibility for anyone but ourselves – you did the best you could."

"But what Dr. Saroyan is feeling," Sweets said, and for once no one seemed to be rolling their eyes at him. "is completely natural – to some extent, I'm sure everyone feels partially responsible for Zack's actions, regardless of how irrational those feelings might be."

There was silence for a long few seconds. Jack had tensed as soon as Zack's name was mentioned; Angela leaned into his arms, resting her back against his chest, hoping he wouldn't shut down. But he wrapped his arms around her instead, burying his face in her hair.

"You smell like sex," he whispered in her ear. She smiled faintly.

"Yeah," she whispered back. "Wonder whose fault that is."

He hugged her closer, and they waited for the next response to the question.

Brennan was beside Booth again – not quite as cuddly as a couple of nights before, but she did have her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed. Booth had that 'Do we really have to do this tonight?' look on his face, and Angela knew exactly how he felt. No one volunteered to go next, until Sweets cleared his throat again.

"I – uh, I have one, actually, that I've wanted to… uh, get off my chest for some time now. Last year, when Agent Booth was shot, he entrusted me with the task of telling his loved ones that he hadn't actually been killed – this his alleged death was just a ruse to – "

"Yeah," Booth said, his eyes boring into the psychologist and his voice tight. Angela noticed that Brennan's eyes were open now, her head no longer on Booth's shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure everyone remembers, Sweets. What's your point?"

Angela could almost see Sweets swallow past his fear – she found herself sitting up straighter, not at all sure what would happen next.

"Right – of course," Sweets said. "Well, I – I didn't tell Dr. Brennan. And she very astutely observed that my reason for not telling her may not have been as honorable as I'd led everyone to believe."

"Sweets," Angela was surprised to hear Brennan's voice. "Just forget it – it's not important." Definite warning in the tone, too. Angela's tension ramped up a notch.

Booth was sitting up straight now, and it seemed like everyone in the circle was holding their breath.

"Wait," Booth said, like he was trying to work through one of those crazy when-will-the-trains-collide math problems Angela used to hate as a kid. "You told me you decided Bones could handle me dying better than anyone else – you knew she'd be okay, and you needed to tell as few people as possible, so you made a judgment call."

Sweets swallowed again, but he was incredibly calm when he looked across the circle at Booth once more.

"I know. I lied." He looked down at his hands, and Angela wasn't sure if he was going to start crying, but she was almost positive that was the only thing that would save him from Booth at this point.

"I – uh, I don't really know how to explain it. But the dynamic between you two is so fascinating, and I thought if I could observe Dr. Brennan under – "

"So you didn't tell her – " Booth interrupted. "You let her think I was _dead_, for some stupid shrink experiment?"

Sweets started to answer, but Booth cut him off with a look that Angela had never seen from him before, directed at Brennan.

"And you knew about this?"

Brennan nodded. "I did. But I knew it would only make you angry if Sweets told you."

Booth stood abruptly. Angela had never gotten the whole anger-coming-off-someone-in-waves phrase until that moment, but boy did she understand it now.

"Y'know what, forget it," Booth said, already starting to walk away. "I'm going to bed. I'll see everybody at five."

Brennan started to get up, but Angela shook her head. "I wouldn't do that, Sweetie. Give him some time to cool off."

The anthropologist sat back down, and after that no one really had much interest in talking about their regrets. Angela sank back into Jack's chest and closed her eyes, feeling immediately better when his arms curled protectively around her. She was more than ready for the day to be done.

TBC

_**So… Next on the week's roster is Solo. Will Booth punch out Sweets? Will Angela get a shower? Will Bones finally figure out who lights her fire? Find out all this and more, in the continuing saga of The War in the Woods. Oh, and of course… Don't forget to click the button below – your comments are the veggie-fuel that keeps this writer going! Thanks for reading, folks!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you thank you thank you for the wonderful feedback you guys are giving me, it's so very nice. I know I'd said this would be up by last Wednesday, but it got stubborn at the last minute and between work and all those other pesky responsibilities I try so hard to avoid… Well, there was nothing for it but time. Here at long last – the chapter you've been waiting for. I really hope I do our favorite FBI man justice. _

* * *

Day Six: Booth

Booth didn't dream at home. Of course, that was probably because he usually passed out on the couch, in front of the TV watching SportsCenter or a movie or whatever else seemed remotely watchable after a long day on the job. And on the rare times when he wasn't on the couch, it was usually because he had someone over – and by the time he went to sleep on those nights, he was way too tired for dreaming.

Ever since they started this damned Outward Bound course, though, he'd been dreaming every goddamn night. Well – not the first night, but definitely ever since the med clinic. Every so often there'd be something sexy in there, or he'd be working a case with Bones or playing in the NFL. Mostly, though, he dreamed about the brothers he met that day – trying to save them, miserably failing, watching them die.

On this particular night, after Sweets's big confession and Booth's dramatic exit, he dreamed that he got a call from a coroner in Maine telling him that the boys were dead. And so he went to the Maine morgue – except the morgue was the Jeffersonian and Bones was the coroner and the dead boys were him and Jared. He left to track down the father, who was of course none other than his own father, and Booth fought with him, and Booth killed him.

And woke up to the sound of rain pouring down outside their tent and Sweets mumbling and Hodgins snoring. He was soaked in sweat, tangled in his blankets, and he didn't think it was anywhere close to five a.m.

He really hated Outward Bound.

He managed to drift off a couple of times over the course of the rest of the night, before Tripp was outside his tent with that goddamn cowbell again, and Booth stumbled out of the tent to find everyone else looking equally as exhausted and pissed off. They were all watching him, no doubt waiting to see what he would say and whether he was still mad – he was suddenly grateful for the friggin' vow of silence Tripp and Belle had thought up.

Weather-wise, it didn't look like it would be a great day. It wasn't pouring anymore, but there was a cold, steady drizzle falling, and an eerie gray fog had settled over everything. Bones was watching him even more than the others, and he realized that it was one of the first times he could remember ever being genuinely pissed off at her. There was the time at his birthday party, of course – and honestly, it was kind of the same feeling, because he wasn't just pissed. Truth be told, he was hurt – just like he'd been on his birthday. And the fact that his partner could hurt him this way – cut him deeper than just about anyone he knew… Well, that wasn't something he was ready to think about just now.

Everyone got dressed in silence – no run and dip that morning, thank God, and then one of the instructors took each member of the group one at a time and disappeared into the woods. Booth felt this tightness in his chest every time another one left, thinking about this time overseas when he'd watched people disappear in pretty much the same way, vanishing into the desert never to return.

Just like he always did when he had those kind of thoughts, he talked himself down as matter of factly as possible – the way he'd learned a lot of the other guys in his squad had to do, once they got back to the real world. He reminded himself that that was a different time, different circumstances, and there was nothing fishy about the situation and everyone around him was totally safe.

It didn't completely help, but it kept him from going berserk in front of everyone. And that was something.

* * *

Belle was the one who took him into the woods. They walked for about half an hour, and a couple of times he'd start to say something and she'd just put her finger to her lips, and he'd roll his eyes and shut up. Jesus. Damn hippies.

After about half an hour, Belle took a scarf out of her pack and tied it around his eyes. She smelled terrible, but he knew he did too and frankly she was still pretty hot. He imagined her stopping somewhere along the way, keeping the blindfold on and ravaging him before she left him alone for twenty-four hours to sleep off the best sex of his life.

His heart wasn't really in the fantasy, though, so he wasn't disappointed when it didn't happen. The air changed and he could smell the ocean, and then Belle stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"You can take off the blindfold now," she said – quiet, like she was at mass or something.

He did. It was lighter out, but not by much – gray sky over grayer water and a black tree line in the distance. Belle handed him a Ziploc baggie of nuts and twigs and crap, and showed him his boundaries.

"You can go as far as the tree line to the east and west, and those rocks to the north," she told him. "Stay out of the water."

He didn't argue, because it would be pointless and he didn't plan on obeying anyway.

"I'll be back to get you at five o'clock tomorrow morning," she said.

He nodded. "And what the hell am I supposed to do 'til then?" he asked, aware that he sounded more than a little sulky.

She grinned at him then – a sexy little hippie grin that caught his imagination in a way she hadn't so far.

"I'm sure you'll think of something," she said.

Right.

She left.

He'd been allowed to bring his sleeping bag, another layer of clothes, water, a notebook, a pen, and a small blue tarp. He set up a little lean-to for himself with the tarp, just in case it started really raining – which it looked like it might do any second. He thought about eating some of his nuts and berries, but figured he should wait 'til he was really hungry for that.

Though he hadn't been allowed to bring a watch, he could see that the sun was climbing steadily behind the clouds – a pale white light that didn't do much to brighten the gray day. He didn't like thinking of Bones out in the rain and the cold, even though he was sure she'd already made a great, eco-friendly shelter and was studying some old, bleached bones she found. He almost smiled at the thought, then reminded himself that he was still mad at her.

"Christ," he said out loud.

He thought of Belle and her cute little hippie grin, and looked around for a second before he went into his lean-to and jerked off. It had been a few days, so it only took a couple of minutes for him to finish himself off – he'd never really seen the point to making it last when it was all him, anyway. He was more than happy to go all night when he had company, but solo was solo. Just a release.

He fell asleep for a while after that. When he woke up he was starving, so he rationed out some of his crappy Outward Bound food and ate it while he watched the tide come in.

It wasn't that interesting, really.

He played Tic Tac Toe in the sand. And won. Found himself wondering again why Bones ransacked a church. What rock star she dated.

Why she didn't tell him Sweets lied.

He stood up, and stretched. Did some push ups and some sit ups and some wind sprints across the sand. Which made him smell even worse, but feel a little better.

He tried to list all fifty states, writing them out on the notebook Belle had given him – he could only get forty-nine, which bugged him. Then he listed all of the quarterbacks in the NFL, in order of his least favorite to favorite, debating for a good fifteen minutes about whether to give the top spot to Peyton Manning or Tom Brady – Manning had that shotgun of a throwing arm, but Brady was a thinking man's quarterback. He scratched out Manning's name and put Tom Brady at the top.

The sun still wasn't that high overhead, which meant it wasn't even noon yet.

Shit.

* * *

When the sun was exactly at mid-heaven, he went for a swim. The ground was rocky and he cut his big toe on a clam shell, but it wasn't a deep cut so he figured he probably wouldn't die from loss of blood. That got him thinking about how everyone else was doing, though, and whether Bones had listened to instructions or was just off gallivanting, paying no attention to what she was doing or where she was going. Probably she was off gallivanting – she never listened to instructions. Especially not his.

They all had whistles they'd been given, in case something happened and they needed an instructor. Of course, that only worked if you were conscious enough to blow the damned whistle – which made him think again of Bones, and how fast someone could bleed to death out here and no one would even know, 'til it was too late.

He swam in a straight line along the shore, back and forth, always keeping an eye on his stupid solo site. After forty laps, he went back to his lean-to, dried off, jerked off again, and fell asleep.

This time, he dreamed that Bones fell off the cliff when they were rock climbing, but she was all right because she'd landed in about a thousand dead bodies. He was freaked out because it meant a thousand murders to solve, but she just kept shaking her head, saying,

"Don't you see, Booth? All these bones? We'll be together forever with all these bones."

She kind of tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the mess.

"Come on, Booth – you're dreaming," which didn't really make sense. He looked at her, and it felt damned realistic when she poked his arm again.

"Booth," she said again. "You're dreaming. Wake up."

He opened his eyes, and she was there.

She was crouched beside his lean-to looking at him curiously with those blue eyes of hers, and his first thought was, _Damn, those eyes_, before he remembered that he was still mad. He closed his eyes again, wondering if he was still dreaming.

"Booth – wake up," she said. Nope, not still dreaming.

He thought about ignoring her – freezing her out, to demonstrate just how pissed off he really was. But that wasn't the kind of guy he was, so he opened his eyes again, slowly getting his bearings. This time, he took a minute to actually think about the fact that Bones was here – at his campsite, when she was definitely supposed to be at her own campsite, thinking about her future or her past or whatever other BS Tripp had told them they should be thinking about. All of these thoughts went through his head in the space of about two seconds before vanishing completely, once he actually took in Bones' physical appearance. Because it wasn't good.

First off, she was half-naked – which wouldn't have been such a horrible thing, of course, but she was also shivering, water dripping from her hair and gathering in pools at her feet. Her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering and she was covered in goosebumps.

Finally fully awake, he scrambled out of his sleeping bag and grabbed a towel.

"Jesus, Bones – what the hell are you doing here? You're not supposed to leave your site."

He wrapped the towel around her shoulders, rubbing it up and down her arms quickly to try and get her blood moving again.

"I was swimming," she said, her teeth still chattering. "And I thought perhaps if I just swam the perimeter of the island, it might make me tired enough to sleep."

"You what?" He just about had a heart attack. "Jesus, Bones – do you know how dangerous the currents can be around a place like this? What if you got a cramp, or hit your head, or…"

He stopped, suddenly realizing that he could lecture her later – for now, he just shook his head and focused on getting her warmed up. For a genius, sometimes Bones did the dumbest damned things.

He stripped off his sweatshirt and pulled it over her head.

"Here – get in my sleeping bag, and I'll build us a fire," he directed her.

"They told us not to build fires on solo," she said immediately, but at least she got in the sleeping bag.

"Yeah, well they also told us not to go swimming, but you didn't seem to have a problem with that."

She didn't argue the point, but he noticed that she was kind of looking at him funny. She sat up in his sleeping bag, not shivering quite so much, and watched him while he gathered driftwood and dried pine needles, putting them in the center of a circle of rocks.

"I don't guess you have any matches on you?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "No. But if you can generate enough heat through friction you may – "

He held up his hand, in no mood for the lesson. "I got it, Bones – relax. I was an Army Ranger, remember? I can start a fire."

He made a teepee out of the driest branches he'd found, setting the pine needles and his lists of states and quarterbacks around it. It took a little while, rubbing two sticks together until finally a tiny plume of smoke began to rise. Another minute or two, and there was a flame.

Bones shuffled over, still in the sleeping bag, and sat down in front of it.

"It worked," she said, like it was some huge surprise or something.

"Well – yeah, Bones, of course it worked. What kind of Ranger do you think I was, anyway?"

She didn't answer. It took another ten minutes or so before the fire really took off. They were silent the whole time, and he realized that it hadn't been his imagination earlier – she was definitely looking at him funny. Finally, after a good fifteen minutes of this, he was the one to break first.

"What the hell were you doing out there, anyway?" he asked, thinking of the way she'd avoided his eyes when he first asked the question. Sometimes, she was the worst liar on the planet.

She was quiet for a couple seconds, like she was trying to decide whether or not to tell him the truth. He didn't say a word, waiting for her to work it out on her own.

"I was bored. It's ridiculous forcing a group of highly motivated professionals to fritter their valuable time away with no hope of accomplishing anything of worth." She paused, and he knew she was still working up to something. "Besides, I couldn't stop thinking about the conversation around the fire last night," she finally admitted. "And how you wouldn't speak to me this morning. And I thought…" she sighed, her forehead wrinkling in frustration. "You've never not spoken to me before."

"Well, there was a vow of silence, Bones," he pointed out, moved despite his best efforts not to be.

She rolled her eyes. "That was just a convenient excuse. You had no interest in conversation with me – I saw the way you avoided me. Are you still angry with me?"

She had that sort of little kid thing going again – this almost naked way of looking at him, and he really didn't understand how she could do that. She was the most maddening person he'd ever met more often than not – she didn't have a clue how to talk to people, she always had to be right, didn't believe in God or love or any of the things he held sacred. But she looked at him with those big blue eyes, like she'd just stepped onto the planet or something, and he was pretty much done. Game over, before it even started.

But he wasn't gonna let her know that, damn it.

"Yeah, Bones – I am still angry at you," and he was surprised at how true the words felt.

"Because I didn't tell you that Sweets lied," she said.

"Yeah." He paused, uncomfortable with how much it actually bothered him. "I mean – what he did to you was a big deal, making you think I was dead like that. And then telling me how you could handle it because you were so…"

"Compartmentalized," she supplied helpfully.

"Right." He stood, pacing because now he was really starting to get pissed off again. "So there you are, thinking I don't even think enough of you to tell you I'm not really dead. And hear I am thinking you don't even really _care _that I'm dead at all," his voice was rising. He took a breath, trying to calm down before he continued.

"And it's all because friggin' Sweets wants to do an experiment."

She waited until he was finished before speaking. "This is precisely why I didn't tell you, though – the ferocity of your reaction far outweighed any benefit you knowing could possibly have had." She paused for a second. "Besides, I was afraid you and Sweets would have a physical altercation over it."

He grimaced. "Yeah, well I came pretty damned close last night."

"But now you're not going to?"

He took another breath, feeling his pulse start to slow, that weird vein in his head stop throbbing. He sat down beside her, and somewhere far off he noted that she looked good in his sweatshirt, and for some reason that sort of pleased him.

"No, Bones – what good would it do? Besides, he's twelve. Weighs maybe ninety pounds. Just let him think it's comin' for a while – that should be enough."

She smiled. "Implied intimidation rather than overt aggression."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. But the important thing here is that you've gotta tell me stuff. We're partners – I'm not a mind reader, and I'm not some stranger off the street. Somethin' happens, and I want to know about it."

"It's a two-road highway, you know," she said. Which baffled the hell out of him for about thirty seconds – honest to God, he felt like he needed a Bones to English dictionary sometimes.

"Two way street, Bones," he told her, once he'd figured it out.

She nodded impatiently, like that was exactly what she'd said. "Yes – two way street. If I tell you things, you need to do the same."

He nodded his agreement, though he was hoping she wasn't gonna push him on that one just yet. He stretched a little where he was sitting, trying to get his back to loosen up – he was falling apart ever since he got here, bad knee and bad back and bad dreams. Christ. Of course Bones didn't miss the move, though, or the wince that went along with it.

She stood up and stepped out of his sleeping bag, wrapping his towel around her long legs before she came and stood over him.

"You know, I could teach you some things that would loosen the muscles of your back. And help lubricate your knee joints to alleviate some of your discomfort there, as well."

He leaned back to look at her. It was still grayer than hell out, a steady drizzle falling over the beach and a cold fog hanging on the horizon, but it seemed a little more manageable since Bones had arrived. Not so manageable that he was going to hang out and do upside down dog or whatever the hell it was – but still, pretty manageable.

"My back's fine, Bones. And so's my knee. I'm fit as a fiddle."

"If you're fine, then it shouldn't intimidate you to try some of the simpler postures I practice everyday. There are millions of strong, virile, sexually potent men who do yoga – there's no reason it should threaten your masculinity."

"What?" he rolled his eyes, heaved a big sigh, and stood up. "Yoga does not threaten my masculinity, Bones. I just think it'd be a waste of time, all right? I don't care how sexually potent the guys you know are – I'm plenty potent myself, without dressing up in tights and getting in touch with my inner Buddha."

She actually laughed at that one, which made him smile in spite of himself. Instead of wasting more time arguing, he figured what the hell – it couldn't be later than early afternoon, which meant they still had a long day ahead of them. At least it would pass the time.

"All right fine, Bones – you wf do yoga? We'll do yoga." He stood up, shook himself out, and kind of threw his shoulders back before tipping an eyebrow at her. "So, where do you want me?"

She was laughing at him, and they hadn't even started yet. Not outright laughing, but she definitely had a little bit of a grin going.

"You're doing it wrong."

He rolled his eyes. "What? I'm just standing here – how can I already be doing it wrong?"

She came over to him then, but her towel started slipping off and before he knew it Bones's long, shapely, goose-pimpled legs were staring him in the face. And while he wouldn't have minded that kind of view for the day, the goose-pimples kind of detracted from the picture.

"Hang on – let me grab another pair of sweats for you – "

"Booth, I didn't come here to drip all over your sleeping bag and steal your clothing," she said.

He wasn't even paying attention, already diving into his lean-to for the rest of his clothes. Once he'd found them, he tossed the sweats to her – she caught them and, he was pleased to note, didn't say anything else before pulling them on and cinching them as tight as she could around her waist. Even so, they were way too big; she leaned down and rolled the cuffs up to her knees, her bare toes curled into the sand and the thing was, Booth had always been kind of an ankle guy. Yeah, he knew it was weird, and hanging with the guys he'd usually just go along with whatever jackass was talking about T&A, but ankles…

The thing about a woman's ankles was that they had this kind of delicate, completely feminine thing about them that always left him a little undone. Bones had good ankles – actually, strike that. Bones had _great _ankles. For a second, Booth found himself just kind of staring at them, and it wasn't like he was _surprised _that she had great ankles, because it was Bones and, well, Bones pretty much had great everything. He was just kind of surprised to be as… well, moved by Bones's ankles.

"Why are you looking at my feet?" Bones asked him, covering one foot up with the other one and looking a little nervous.

He shook his head, trying to get a grip. Jesus, he was losing his shit out here.

"I wasn't, Bones – "

"Yes, you were – it was very obvious. Is there something wrong with my feet?"

"No, Bones," he sighed in frustration. "Your feet are great, okay? Are we doing this yoga thing or not?"

She nodded. A second or two later, she seemed to accept that her feet were fine, and stood tall with said feet shoulder-width apart in the sand and her hands in front of her like she was praying. Booth just stood there and looked at her, until finally she raised one eyebrow at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You're supposed to do what I'm doing," she told him, like he was just somehow supposed to know that.

"Oh." He rolled his eyes again, but he didn't argue. Feet shoulder width apart, staring at Bones on the beach with his hands in the prayer position. Nothing wrong with this picture.

"We'll start with some basic exercises to stretch your spine," she told him. "First, take a deep breath through your nose – inhale until your stomach is distended, and let the oxygen suffuse your system."

He wasn't completely sure what suffuse meant, but he got the general picture.

"Close your eyes," she directed.

"How am I supposed to copy what you're doing if I can't see you?" he asked.

"I'll tell you when to open them again. Just relax. Close your eyes, and concentrate on your breathing. Tuck your chin slightly and elongate your spine, breathing through each movement."

All the deep breathing was making him dizzy, and he started to think about what everyone else was doing during their solo. Then he started to think about the Ziploc baggie half-full of nuts and berries that now him and Bones were supposed to survive on until the next morning. He realized he was hungry, which made him think about getting back home and ordering up the biggest, fattest burger this side of the Mississippi.

"Booth!"

He realized she'd been trying to get his attention for a while. Embarrassed, he opened his eyes to find her standing on her toes on one leg with her arms extended over her head, her palms still pressed together. His eyes widened as soon as he saw her. The other day when she'd been turning herself into a pretzel before their morning run, he'd been… impressed, let's say, with her flexibility. But this – Jesus. How could she be brilliant and gorgeous and still athletic and graceful and have great ankles?

"Please don't tell me you expect me to do that," he said.

She lowered her arms and set both feet on the ground, then came over to stand beside him, closing her hands over his.

"Just start by raising your arms over your head," she told him. And normally he would have made some wisecrack and given up, but she was standing beside him and she smelled like the ocean and his overripe sweatshirt but, somewhere underneath it all, she smelled like Bones.

She let go of his hands, but she didn't move farther away – just raised her arms and he mirrored the move, feeling a little dorky but undeniably curious about where this was gonna lead. Once his arms were overhead, she told him to breathe – he did, and he realized that for the first time in a long time, his back felt looser. She moved around behind him and he started to twist his head to watch, but she told him to close his eyes and for once he listened. A second later, he felt her hand – cool, but not freezing – resting on the back of his neck.

"Bones, what are you doing?" he asked, but his voice sounded strange to his ears, like he'd just been running a marathon or something.

"Just relax. Keep breathing."

He was starting to get tired of having his arms over his head, but he stuck with it regardless. And then suddenly there was this unexpected moment when everything went still – when all the thoughts in his head stopped racing, and he could hear the water lapping up against the shore, and Bones' slow, even breaths beside him. There was a soft, misting rain coming down and the air was cool and damp on his skin. He took another breath, totally focused on the feeling of her hand on his neck. She wasn't rubbing or massaging or anything – just resting it there, but he could feel each finger sort of branding him. After a second or two, he realized that he was getting kind of, well, turned on by the whole thing, so he quickly pushed _that _thought right out of his head and tried to concentrate on his breathing, like Bones told him to.

It was actually working, too, until all of a sudden her other hand made an appearance – on his stomach, just below his belly button, _under _his sweatshirt. And suddenly, he was definitely not concentrating on his breathing anymore.

"What the hell are you doin', Bones?" he asked, opening one eye to look at her.

"Just keep breathing," she told him. She exerted a tiny bit of pressure at his neck. "Now slowly bend forward – start by tipping your head, allowing the spine to fall in line until you're touching your toes."

Then she pressed her other hand into his stomach, and the pressure shot straight to his groin – he jumped about a foot backward, both eyes wide open.

"Bones! Hey – that's personal territory. Personal, personal territory!"

"What's the matter with you? You were doing very well – I was just going to guide you into a forward bend, it's very revitalizing. And excellent for high blood pressure."

Somehow, he seriously doubted that. She took another step toward him and he took three steps back, his arms raised like he was fending off an attacker.

"Y'know what, Bones? No more yoga. Okay? I've had enough – between the crappy food and sleeping with Hodgins and finding out Sweets experimented on us – " he took a breath, because she was looking at him like he'd gone nuts.

"Just – no more yoga, okay?"

She shrugged, and he didn't miss her damned eye roll. "Fine. I was just attempting to help you relax."

"Well – mission accomplished. I'm way more relaxed now."

They sat back down by the fire, neither of them saying a word. On top of everything else, his stomach was really growling now, and there was no way in hell the stash Tripp had given him would be enough to carry them both through 'til morning. Nevertheless, he went back to the lean-to and pulled out the half-full baggie, tossing it to Bones.

"Here – dinner's served. Save me a couple raisins though, would you?"

She looked at him with that wrinkle in her forehead. "You can't give me your food – there's almost nothing left. It's barely enough for one person."

"Well, I'm not gonna sit here and eat in front of you when you don't have anything. Besides, you're smaller – and a woman. You need it. I'll be fine."

She came over and sat down beside him, taking his hand and turning it over so that it was palm up. Taking care not to spill a crumb, she dumped the contents into his hand.

"I don't like pine nuts," she told him.

He grinned. "Okay." He picked out the pine nuts and ate them – there were six in all, gone in a flash. "I'm not big on those pretzel things."

She carefully chose the pretzels, munching on them thoughtfully while they looked at the rest of their supply.

"Split the raisins and leave the rest for later?" Booth asked.

She nodded. He picked out seven raisins, dropping four into her hand before he popped the remaining three into his mouth and gulped them down in a hurry. Then, he put the rest of the food back in the baggie and handed it to her.

"Well, that was fantastic," he said seriously. "I haven't had a meal like that in ages. You?"

"Delicious," she said, just as serious, but with a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Bones was sitting with her leg pressed against his, not quite leaning into him – comfortable, the way they were sometimes. It was nice at first, but then after a while the silence stopped feeling nice and started to feel kind of awkward. She looked at him expectantly.

"Now what do you want to do?" she asked.

Several ideas leaped to mind, and none of them were at all appropriate. He swallowed, consciously didn't look at her naked ankles, and thought about more acceptable ways to pass the time.

"We could play a game," he said. He just happened to say it at exactly the same time that Bones said,

"We could have sex."

His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, and he wasn't sure whether to laugh or argue or just agree and be done with it already.

"What, Bones?"

She looked at him – kind of shy, a little embarrassed, but obviously trying to be the bold, no-hang-ups forensic anthropologist who took guys home, had her way with them, and did it all in the name of scratching an itch. Or so he'd heard.

"We could have sex," she said, less sure of herself now. "We're both healthy, and attractive, and we have several hours before anyone will come for either of us. You said the other night you'd like to have sex with me."

He studied her for a long few seconds, really trying to figure her out. How could she be this brilliant and this ridiculously dumb, all at once? It never ceased to amaze him.

"Yeah, well – that was without a morning after or consequences or weird awkwardness after. Besides, I don't have any – you know, anything for protection. And I'm not having sex on this island, like this."

"Angela and Hodgins did, and Angela said it was very pleasant. And I'm not ovulating – "

He held up his hand before she could go any further. "Okay, first off, I'm not talking to you about _that. That _is exactly what Rebecca told me six weeks before we found out she was pregnant with Parker. So… I don't go by that anymore. And second – when the hell did Angela and Hodgins sleep together? I thought they broke up."

"Yesterday, during the afternoon break. Angela doesn't know what it means yet."

He rolled his eyes. "It means the ride home's gonna be hell, that's what it means."

Another silence, and he was really hoping she'd drop the whole subject. Predictably enough, she didn't.

"So, you would have sex with me if there were no consequences."

"Right," he nodded, mostly in the vain hope that maybe that would make her stop.

"But if there were consequences, you wouldn't want to have sex with me."

"Exactly," he nodded again. Too late, he realized how that sounded and saw the hurt look that crossed her face. "No! I mean – " he pulled up short, taking a big breath while he tried to figure out how to explain this to her when he didn't really get it himself.

"Look, Bones – you're really pretty. I mean, God, you have those eyes, and those legs, and you have _great _ankles," he stopped, because he was quickly losing his train of thought. "You're brilliant, and kind, and – well, you're also a big pain in the ass and you make me nuts, but – "

Yep, train of thought effectively derailed.

"You were explaining why you won't have sex with me," she supplied helpfully, before he could even ask.

Right. Schmuck. He willed himself not to look away, trying to make her understand.

"It just – it shouldn't be like this, you know?" he finally said. The look in her eyes said she definitely did not know.

"Our first time isn't gonna be in the middle of the woods when we both smell like road kill and the only reason we're doing it is because we're bored and can't think of anything better to do."

Crap. He definitely hadn't meant for it to come out like that. She kept those blue eyes on him, thinking about what he'd said. Finally, after what seemed like six eons, she spoke.

"You think there'll be a… first time?" she asked, and she didn't take her eyes off him for a second.

He swallowed. Hard. Damn, was it getting hot out? After a second or two, he shrugged, forcing himself to hold steady under the weight of her gaze.

"I don't know, Bones. But if there is – if we ever do, you know – "

"Have sex," she prompted.

He rolled his eyes. "Make love, Bones, okay? Make love," he said again, softer this time. He shrugged, feeling suddenly shy about the whole thing. "If we do reach that point, you deserve my A game. You're worth that, you know?"

She lowered her eyes for the first time, and he found it sort of sweet and heartbreaking all at once that she could proposition him without blinking an eye, but the minute he started talking about making love she was blushing like a schoolgirl. He bumped his shoulder against hers.

"Okay?"

A second of silence passed between them before she returned the bump. "Okay."

Before it could get awkward again, he hopped up from where he was sitting and sort of crouched down, gesturing toward his back.

"Here – hop on."

Her eyes widened in confusion. "What? Why? If this is some sort of pony play thing, I really don't -

"What? God, Bones, what did I just get done saying?" He sighed. "Hop on my back, because you don't have any shoes and we're goin' for a walk in the woods. I'm starved, and somewhere on this godforsaken island, there must be something to eat. And we're gonna find it."

* * *

They'd just found a tidepool and Bones was explaining how snails were a delicacy and Booth was totally gonna love them when they heard voices, followed by what sounded like a herd of elephants crashing through the underbrush. A second later, Angela appeared with her tie-dyed bandana all cockeyed and her shirt on backwards.

"I told you it was them, Jack," she called over her shoulder.

Bones was crouched in the tidepool with water up to her shins, staring intently into the clear water. Booth was sitting on the sidelines, torn between being skeptical about the whole snail thing and being undeniably charmed at the picture she made. At Angela's appearance, they both looked up in surprise.

"You're not supposed to leave your solo site," they said in unison.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I got bored about half an hour after Tripp left me – started wandering around and just happened to stumble on Jack's site."

Jack made his appearance a moment later, and damn, the woods didn't do a lot for the guy. His eyes looked sort of wild, his hair was going in six different directions, and he had a beard that looked like it was probably home to a whole slew of bugs and birds and creatures of the night.

"Hey, guys," he said, obviously trying to be casual. "What's up?"

Booth looked him up and down, swallowing a grin. "Not much. We didn't mean to interrupt you – "

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jack said hurriedly. Bones looked at Angela curiously, and the artist rolled her eyes.

"We've already had sex three times since solo started. I cannot have sex again. Ever. Or at least until I have a long, long shower."

An uncomfortable silence fell, until Booth straightened with a big sigh. "Okay, see - that's what we call over-sharing, Ange. But thanks. You guys wanna help us find something to eat?"

The couple joined them eagerly, and before long they had a pile of mussels, snails, a few decent sized crabs, and a stack of seaweed that Bones insisted would taste great roasted on the fire. On the way back they added blackberries to the mix and Jack found some wild mint. Everyone was talking at once and actually having a pretty good time until they got back to the campsite and found Cam and Sweets sitting looking miserable beside the fire, waiting for Booth to return.

Sweets' eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the party that came out of the woods.

"You're not supposed to leave your solo site," he said automatically.

"Save it," Booth said shortly.

Before, when he'd been talking to Bones about the whole thing, he really thought he could be the bigger man here – okay, sure, throw his weight around a little to make sure Sweets didn't think what he did was all right. But otherwise, he figured he'd just let it blow over. No harm done.

But now, the reality of the whole thing kind of dawned on him: the way Sweets had totally discounted what it would do to Bones, and just let her think her partner was dead that whole time. Just so he could study her reactions, get some cheap thrill if she broke down or didn't or… Yeah, it turned out he was still pretty pissed.

The rest of the group stopped at the edge of the woods, but Booth kept right on coming. Sweets stood up to meet him, rising to his full height and looking Booth square in the face.

"Your anger is completely justified," Sweets told him.

"Thanks," Booth said, already trying to hold himself back from what he really wanted to do.

"I was completely in the wrong for what I did. There was no rational explanation for why I withheld that information from Dr. Brennan," Sweets continued.

Should he hit him in the nose, or the jaw? Or maybe just sock him in the stomach and leave it at that.

"You have every right to be furious with me, and I wouldn't blame either Dr. Brennan or yourself if you never trusted me again. I recognize the rift this has caused between Dr. Brennan and myself, and I only hope that as we go forward we can move beyond that."

He wouldn't get more than one blow, really – more than that wouldn't be fair, and he didn't actually want to injure the kid. Not seriously, anyway.

"But that's why I'd like it if you just… Well," Sweets stood up even straighter, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "If you just, you know, hit me. Wherever you want – I won't – "

Before he could say anything else, Booth popped him once in the nose. Not hard enough to break anything, but definitely hard enough to feel it. Sweets went down before Booth could even feel the sting in his knuckles, holding onto his nose while a thin stream of blood ran down his face and between his fingers. Angela strolled over to the water, wet yet another of her bandanas with seawater, and strolled back to hand the cloth to Sweets. There was an impressive lack of drama surrounding the whole thing.

"Thanks," Sweets muttered, the word muffled behind his hand. He sat up in the sand, gingerly putting the handkerchief to his nose.

Booth rolled his shoulders, feeling immediately better. Yeah, violence was no way to solve things and he knew he really had to work on his temper and Sweets was just a kid but… damn, that felt good.

"So," he clapped his hands together. "Who's hungry?"

* * *

It wasn't what you'd call a good meal – but it was more food than he'd had in a while, and that was something. Booth had gotten used to eating some pretty disgusting stuff in the army, so snails and crabs and seaweed really wasn't that horrible. It was filling, and no one was talking about their feelings, and aside from the whole yoga thing with Bones, he hadn't had to do any kind of touchy-feely trust games all day.

And honestly? He kind of liked hanging out with these guys. He'd always known Cam was funnier than hell, but Jack was actually good for a laugh himself, and Angela was cool and of course Bones was, well, Bones. Even Sweets kind of grew on you after a while. The fire was going strong, the night was cool and clean and refreshing, he had a full belly and another couple of days before it was time to dive back into murder and mayhem in D.C. Life was pretty good.

Which was, of course, when Angela suggested they play Truth or Dare.

"Can't we go one night without having to ask all kinds of embarrassing personal questions that nobody really wants to answer?" Booth asked, stopping just short of whining.

"I like them," Bones announced unexpectedly. All eyes turned her way, and she raised her eyebrows like she didn't understand why they were surprised.

"What? I like knowing about everyone."

"All right then," Booth said quickly. "If you like the game so much, you can go first. Who's the rock star you dated?"

He actually wanted to know about the church thing way more, but he had a feeling this wasn't the right time for that. He looked at his partner expectantly. It seemed like she wasn't quite sure how to answer the question.

"Do you want his real name?" she asked.

"Yes!" Everyone shouted in unison.

She hesitated. "Paul Plissey," she finally said.

No one said a word, which made Booth feel a little better for not knowing who the hell she was talking about.

"Sweetie, we don't know who that is," Angela told her.

"He's a musician," Bones explained. "He goes by the stage name Ellis Paul."

Everyone shook their heads.

"Sorry, Bones. No one's ever heard of your rock star boyfriend."

"I never said he was my boyfriend. Or a rock star. I merely said I'd dated a well-known musician."

"Apparently not that well known," Sweets said. His nose had swollen fast and he had two black eyes, but he seemed to be in pretty good spirits.

"Didn't he do a song in that Jim Carrey movie several years ago?" Cam ventured.

Bones didn't know, of course. She was sitting beside Booth, curled up in his sleeping bag wearing his sweatshirt and his sweatpants, her pretty ankles now hidden in a pair of his huge wool socks. Booth just looked at her and shook his head, unable to squelch a grin. God, she was hopeless.

And he'd have it no other way.

"All right, so who's next? And no big heartfelt questions, huh? Can we keep it light 'til the hippies get hold of us again," Booth begged.

They agreed, and soon they were all laughing over questions about first kisses and worst sex and what kind of animal they'd be. (Booth: seven years old, Leslie Whitman; seventeen years old, Alice Martin; wolf – because he'd seen this special on the Discovery channel and he liked how they mated for life and traveled together and how pretty they were, though he just went with the whole 'lone wolf' explanation when he was telling the others. Bones's first kiss wasn't until she was sixteen, and it was some kid in a foster home named Will Bailey, and her worst sex was with the same damned kid a year later, which gave Booth a kind of uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looked at her. And her favorite animal was something he couldn't pronounce, some bird that only lived in Bolivia and ate wild grubs and lived for a hundred years or something. Honestly, sometimes he couldn't figure her out for the life of him.)

"Okay, so I have a question," Angela said, once the laughing had subsided and things were getting kind of quiet.

Everyone had gotten their sleeping bags but Bones, whose solo site it turned out was the only one not within about fifty yards of everyone else's. Jack and Angela looked pretty damned cozy for two people who'd already gone at it three times that day and had sworn off sex for the next forty-eight hours. It was hard to tell whether Sweets was just tired or his eyes had actually swollen shut, but he didn't seem to be hurting too bad – though Booth did wish he had an aspirin or something to give the kid, because he had to have a hell of a headache. Cam was already lying down in her sleeping bag, yawning widely every so often like she was about to pass out any second.

Booth was definitely uneasy at the way Angela was looking at him, and he knew the question before she asked it.

"The other night, you wouldn't tell us about when you were arrested – " she began.

"Dare," he said quickly, because there was no way in hell he was going down that road.

Angela looked at him, narrowing her eyes like she was gonna push the issue. After a second, she shrugged. "Fine. I dare you to sleep with Brennan tonight."

That got Cam up. And everyone else, for that matter.

Jesus, these people were unbelievable. "God, Angela – you can't dare me to sleep with Bones. That's – she's – "

"Oh my god, will you relax? I said _sleep_, I didn't say bend her over the nearest bush and have your way with her. What's the big deal? She doesn't have her sleeping bag anyway – what were you gonna do, bury yourself in the sand to stay warm?"

He looked at Bones, who looked back at him. No one said anything. Finally, Bones shrugged, like it was nothing.

"Fine. We'll sleep together. We're both adults. I have no problem with it if you don't."

There didn't seem to be much else he could say. He took a breath, suddenly feeling very, very antsy, and finally nodded.

"Sure – fine. Bones and I will _sleep _together. Happy?"

Angela grinned. "Hell yeah, I'm happy." She gave a big, wide yawn and exaggerated a stretch. "Happy, and very, very sleepy. Ready for bed, Jack?"

Jack was grinning, too. God, they were assholes. "Sure thing. You guys sleep tight, okay?"

Cam grabbed her sleeping bag and headed for the edge of the site next, and Sweets waited a second longer – watching them both way too closely until Booth shot a glare at him, and he quickly excused himself.

And then there were two.

"So… I guess the whole 'Which side do you sleep on' thing isn't really gonna be an issue tonight, huh?" he asked, gesturing toward his standard-issue mummy bag. He'd been given an extra large, so it wasn't like it would be impossible.

Just really, really snug.

To his surprise, Bones actually blushed. Well, he couldn't tell for sure because she was lit by firelight, but she didn't quite look at him and it sure as hell looked like she blushed. He gestured vaguely toward the water.

"I'm just gonna… uh, brush my teeth." Sixteen times.

She nodded. "Yes – good idea. Dental hygiene is important."

He nodded seriously. "Yeah. You only get one set of teeth."

"Well – technically, humans get two sets of teeth," she corrected him.

Before she could give him a lecture on dental anthropology, he grabbed his toothbrush and his bottled water and went to try and get cleaned up.

"I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder.

He brushed and rinsed and brushed again, spitting his toothpaste into the ocean while he tried to figure out some way to smell better. Short of rubbing toothpaste under his arms, he had no brilliant ideas. His five o'clock shadow was now a five-day beard, and his hair was sort of matted and really dirty. And his less accessible parts? Between the sweat and the salt air and the no shower and… yeah. There was no way anyone should have access to those parts.

Not that any of that would be an issue, he told himself. Because this was Bones. And they'd just had the conversation – this was not how it would happen. If it ever happened. Which it might. _But not tonight, _he reminded himself firmly. They were just going to sleep – no big deal. He brushed his teeth one more time, then went back to find Bones sitting by the fire with just her feet in the sleeping bag.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to get in first – there's not really that much space," she told him, like the thought hadn't occurred to him.

He took a deep breath. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Bones. You can take the sleeping bag and I can just sleep under the lean-to, I'll be fine. It isn't even that cold." Which was a lie, but what the hell.

She shook her head. "But then wouldn't you be backing up on a dare?"

"Out, Bones. Backing out," he corrected automatically. "And that's not that big a deal once you get past twelve years old or so. We don't have to do this."

She seemed to give that some thought, before she finally shook her head. "No. I'm not comfortable backing out. Besides, we're adults. You need to sleep somewhere. And I need to sleep somewhere."

And apparently those somewheres would be the same.

Booth nodded. "All right – so we're doing this. Like you said, no big deal. Just sleeping. Why don't I get in first, and then you can kind of shimmy in around me." He silently ordered himself not to think about those words, and concentrated on the task at hand.

It was kind of like any of the hundred lame Outward Bound initiatives they'd been doing for the past week: how many people can you stuff into a one-man sleeping bag? He imagined Tripp and Belle cheering them on, talking about trust and personal boundaries and whatever other horseshit they could think of. Except Tripp and Belle were nowhere to be found; it was dark, and quiet, and once she'd finally found the space, Bones was pressed against him and there was barely room for the clothes they were wearing.

He was on his side with his arms tight against his body, Bones hands crushed against his chest. She twisted a couple of times, thrashing so much that she actually kneed him in the balls and he felt like it was time for someone to take control of the situation.

"Ow! Jesus, Bones – I might want another kid one day, would you go easy?"

She stopped moving. "Sorry. It's very difficult to get comfortable, though."

"Well, yeah – that was kind of the point." Sort of. He paused, working up his courage. Since they'd gotten into the sleeping bag, they'd both practically been crawling out of their skin to keep from touching each other – which was clearly impossible given the lack of space. Bones had started wriggling again, but he touched her arm lightly and she stopped moving.

"Bones, this'll never work unless we both give a little on the personal bubble."

"I don't know – "

"Space, Bones. Our space." He stretched one arm out, grateful to take the room. Bones started to back away, though he didn't know where the hell she thought she was going. Before she could get too far, he took his other hand and gently guided her head to his shoulder.

"See, Bones – that's better, right?"

She nodded, her hair brushing lightly against his chin. After another second or two, he felt her start to relax against him. She rested her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Now, Bones," he said, lowering his voice to whisper in her ear – just because it seemed appropriate given the situation. "You're not gonna freak out on me in the morning, are you? Decide we can't be partners anymore or try to have me transferred to Timbuktu, just 'cause you can't bear to look at my handsome face?"

He couldn't see her roll her eyes, but he could definitely hear it in her voice. "I'll try to control myself."

"Good," he smiled, holding her a little tighter. "That's all I'm askin', Bones."

He didn't actually expect to sleep, but sometime later he woke up to find Bones mumbling something, her body warm and her hair damp beneath his chin. It was hotter than hell in the sleeping bag – he'd already gotten rid of his sweatshirt and apparently Bones had too, because she was wearing only his t-shirt. She was pressed against him, one very naked leg draped over his, and he tried everything he could think of to keep his body from reacting. Which was a lost cause, of course. Bones mumbled something that sounded like 'Strawberry Fields,' and he wasn't sure whether he should wake her or not. Probably not – how bad could a dream about strawberry fields be?

He ran a hand experimentally down her arm, feeling the muscle and that kind of delicate strength that he liked so much about her. It sure as hell wasn't helping the situation down south, but he couldn't help it – besides, it was just her arm. So, he lay there and after a while his body settled down, and he just watched her for what seemed like hours. The fire had long since died out, but his eyes were adjusted to the darkness enough that he could just make out the way her face relaxed in sleep, her incomprehensible mumbles, the flicker of a smile, the way she'd curl into him every once in a while. Eventually, the mumbles started to sound more desperate, and he felt her tense like wire in his arms.

"Bones," he whispered, shaking her gently.

She opened her eyes, disoriented for a second before she realized where she was.

"You were dreaming," he told her – in case she thought he'd just woken her up for the hell of it.

She nodded. "What time is it?" she asked.

It was dark out, no sign of a sunrise. That was the best he could do. "No idea. Night-time, still."

Another nod, as she relaxed in his arms once more. "I'm not really tired anymore," she told him after a while, though her voice still sounded sleepy and she didn't seem all that awake.

"Well, I am," he told her honestly. "Tell me a story."

She pushed away so she could actually look at him, trying to tell if he was serious.

"What kind of story?"

He pretended to think about it, though he knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Tell me why you wrecked that church," he said quietly. He didn't know why it should matter – honestly, what was the big deal? But for some reason he felt like knowing this story would make her suddenly make sense to him, in a way she never had before.

He waited until she finally nodded.

"You have to tell me about the first time you were arrested, though. I tell you stuff, you tell me stuff," she quoted back at him – he knew that one was gonna come back and bite him in the ass. Shit.

He swallowed hard, finally nodding after he took a second or two to think it over. It was dark, fog heavy in the air and no stars to be seen, the rest of the group retired to their respective corners. They were alone, and it felt like the heat between them was enough to keep him warm through whatever cold, dark things might come up for the rest of his life. If there was ever a time for honesty, this seemed like it.

"All right – but you first."

Another few seconds passed, and he thought she might have gone back to sleep – or at least be faking it. But eventually, she started in, her head nestled at his neck and her breath warm on his skin.

"When I was sixteen, I lived with a foster family – the Maples. The father was a deacon at the local church. The mother – Emma – played piano quite well, and used to knit these awful hats that she gave to everyone, but she never made us wear them."

There wasn't actually enough room to look at her, but maybe that was better. He rested a hand on the small of her back, moving his hand in slow, gentle circles while she talked, waiting for her to ask him to stop or say something about it.

"They had two of their own kids – twins, ten years old. Very well-behaved, but of course I thought they were monsters at the time. They'd adopted another foster child – he was fourteen. Mark."

She paused. He didn't say anything – too caught up in imagining a sixteen-year-old Bones, scared and abandoned, no anchor and no place to call home.

"They sound okay," he finally said, hoping it wouldn't pull her out of the memory.

She nodded. "They were, actually. I know you hear all these horror stories about children's services and foster homes, and I certainly had my fair share of them afterward, but… They were nice people."

She fell silent for so long that he finally cleared his throat, and she looked up like she was startled to find him there.

"So, what happened, Bones? How'd you go from a salt of the earth suburban family to dumping blood on the guy's altar?"

"They wanted to adopt me," she said simply, like that explained everything.

It took him a second or two to puzzle it out – once he had, he kind of wished he hadn't because it honestly broke his heart. He moved his hand to her hair, pulling back so that he could look at her. There were tears in her blue eyes, that determined look on her face that told him there was no way in hell she was gonna let them fall.

"But you were waiting for your folks to come back, so you didn't want to be adopted," he guessed. "So, you did the only thing you could think of so bad they wouldn't want you anymore."

Another nod, and he watched as a single tear slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, never taking his eyes from hers.

"I wrote my name in cow's blood on the altar: 'Temperance loves Satan.'"

Booth's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but grin.

"Why are you smiling?" she demanded. "I was trying to think of the thing that would upset them the most."

"I'm sorry, it's just… God, Bones, you've never been much for subtlety, have you. Temperance loves Satan?"

She smiled a little, but the smile was gone in a flash once she continued with the story. "The priest there had me arrested, though no charges were filed. They sent me away the next day. Emma cried the whole way to family services."

There was silence for a long time before she finally continued. It was only once she did that he realized she was crying; he started the circles on her back again, brushing his lips against her forehead.

"I went back to the church last year," she sniffed and rubbed her eyes, quickly getting hold of herself once more. "To try and pay for the damages I'd done, but it wasn't there anymore. They said it burned down about ten years ago, and no one could tell me what happened to the Maples."

Booth kept his arms around her, his lips on her forehead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and it didn't begin to cover what he was feeling. And then something occurred to him, and he had to smile at the thought. He kissed her forehead again, just because she was letting him and her skin felt good, tasted good, on his lips.

"You know, I would've been nuts about you in those days."

She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? You were an athlete – I'm sure you had any number of popular girls lined up waiting to date you. I was just… Me. Too skinny, I read all the time, had no idea what to wear or what to say, my family gone…"

"I liked the smart, quiet girls. I mean – I didn't usually date them, because, well, I had a reputation to live up to." She laughed, and he smiled at the sound. "But you… I would've been a goner. Those eyes? That sad story? I would've snuck you home like I did every other stray I came across. You would've thought I was the biggest loser on the planet, but I would've been nuts about you."

Kind of like now, he thought. But he didn't say it.

"I don't think you're a loser," she said softly, maneuvering so she could look him in the eye when she said it. Another tear slid down her cheek, that wrinkle in her forehead signaling just how much she meant it. He thought back to their conversation on his birthday, after the whole crappy thing with Jared.

"Thanks, Bones," he said. "I know you don't."

It got quiet. Gradually, the space between them got smaller and smaller and suddenly his lips were just seconds, just a breath away from hers. He swallowed. Closed his eyes. And took the leap.

Her lips were softer than he remembered from the Christmas kiss. It started slow – an experiment, almost like they could still take it back. They stopped, looked at each other; he waited for her to freak out. Apologize. Say she hadn't meant to and they needed to stop, for the sake of the partnership. The friendship. The queen.

She didn't say any of those things. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him again - her lips parted, her heart racing against his, and then she pulled away.

"We should go to sleep," she told him, but she was smiling and it seemed to him in that second that, for the first time in his life, he knew what she was thinking.

"Yeah," he nodded. Took a deep breath, trying to cool his blood and his jets and his shorts. Now wasn't the time. Not here, not like this.

But it would happen. And that would just have to be enough.

They fell asleep wrapped up in each other, frustrated and overheated and still, somehow, smiling. Booth had never been happier about a crappy, sexless night's sleep in his life.

TBC

_**Mother of Moses, that was a long one. I'll try to have the next chapter up before next Sunday, but only time will tell. I do love the feedback along the way, though, so keep it comin' and, as always, thanks for reading!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, guys – first off, I'm sooooo sorry that it's taken so long to get this up – if it makes you feel any better, it is an epic chapter. I've broken day seven into three perspectives – Sweets, Cam, and Brennan. Day eight will be Hodgins, Angela, and Booth. Thanks to everyone for the incredible comments, you guys all rock. And without further ado…_

* * *

Day Seven  
Sweets  
5 – 11a.m.

Sweets woke at some point in the early morning, considered getting up, and promptly fell back to sleep before giving the idea any real thought. The cavalry didn't arrive until well after dawn – Sweets woke abruptly at the sound of the cowbell, to a splitting headache and two very agitated instructors. He'd been drooling excessively, undoubtedly a side effect of sleeping with his mouth open, as it seemed his nostrils had swollen shut. Before facing Belle and Tripp, he quickly wiped his chin and tried to prepare himself mentally for the upcoming day.

The rest of the group was also groggily coming to, though he noted with some interest that Booth and Brennan appeared to have been up and about for some time. He tried to ascertain from their body language whether or not something had happened between them the previous evening, but gave up in short order. Given the confrontation with Booth the previous evening, it didn't seem prudent to appear overly interested in the agent's interactions with Dr. Brennan, at least for a while.

The psychologist felt surprisingly primal after the exchange between them the night before, having never actually been in a physical altercation before. Yes, Booth's show of force had been brutish and Sweets certainly would have rather advocated for a meaningful discourse about their thoughts and feelings surrounding the events in question, but… Well, it was Booth. Meaningful discourse on any topic was virtually unheard of, at least where Sweets was concerned.

Besides which, the truth of the matter was that – regardless of how much Sweets was loathe to admit it – he could understand Booth's anger in this particular instance. Though the psychologist held to his right to observe Booth and Brennan's bizarre partnership, objectively he could understand why they might be upset with him. It was that understanding that had prompted the psychologist's ill-advised confession two nights ago, and that further propelled him from his solo site despite clear instructions to remain within the boundaries Tripp had set.

He'd found Cam before setting out for Booth's solo site late that afternoon. Initially when he'd stumbled upon her site, he'd gotten the strangest impression that she was not alone – in fact, he was almost positive he'd heard a male voice with her. He was mistaken, of course. Dr. Saroyan was indeed alone – flushed and quite surprised to see him, but definitely on her own. Sweets told her what he proposed to do: seek Booth out, and apologize. To which she had replied,

"Well, I'm sure as hell not missing that."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Tripp asked, pulling Sweets from his reverie abruptly. He directed the question at the group in general before turning to face Sweets directly.

"I know," Sweets said. He stood with some difficulty, which made his headache considerably worse. "You have every right to be upset. I know that it was against the rules, but I – "

He realized suddenly that Belle was looking at him with what appeared to be significant concern. He touched his nose reflexively, wincing at the pain.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

The rest of the group had gathered around, though at the question all of them seemed inordinately interested in their surroundings – the tree line, the water, anything but the scene unfolding before them. All but Booth, that is, who kept his head up and his gaze fixed firmly on Sweets.

"Oh – this?" Sweets asked, attempting to be cavalier. "I just bumped into a tree. Or – well, a tree branch, that is. And hit my nose. It actually looks worse than it is."

Booth sighed in exasperation. "What the hell are you doin', Sweets? I hit him," the agent said, showing no remorse whatsoever. "I popped him in the nose – no big deal." He looked at Sweets again. "Don't cover for me, all right? What the hell are they gonna do, arrest me? Kick me off the course? The worst that's gonna happen is they make me talk about my feelings until I shoot someone."

Actually, the last option wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility, though Sweets chose to keep that to himself. Tripp looked at each member of the group in turn, then shook his head as though he'd decided they were all completely hopeless.

"All right, gang – circle up. We've got a big day, and I think we need to have a talk before we get started."

The circle was more oblong than round, and completely lacking focus. Angela and Brennan sat together at one end, while Booth, Hodgins, and Cam sat on the opposite side. Both groups were deeply engaged in conversations, giving Belle and Tripp virtually no attention whatsoever. Though the previous day had been cold and overcast, this morning was clear and already very warm – even the ocean breeze did little to ease the heat of what promised to be a scorching July day.

Tripp stood and cleared his throat. "Typically after solo, this is a time for everyone to share their experiences while they were on their own. However, since you guys seem to have had your solo _together_, and since Belle and I just wasted the better part of two hours hunting for you, we'll skip that part."

The instructor paused, looking at each member of the group before he continued. "Now – at this point, you're all actually supposed to head out on final expedition. Which means Belle and I give you your mission, and then we pretty much leave you to get the job done. It's a fun day… It's a good day. It's a day when everything you've learned over the past week is put into practice, and you learn to rely on each other and trust each other, and then at the end of the day you're all rewarded for your hard work."

He paused, and Sweets looked around the circle uncomfortably. Everyone else looked equally ill at ease, clearly aware of Tripp's underlying message.

The instructor took a breath, still looking sincerely disturbed by recent events. "I just want to make sure before we get started, that you guys are really up for this. Because to be honest, I've never been less sure about sending a group off on their own. You're obviously all intelligent and accomplished and great at what you do. But in terms of taking instructions and then working as a team to achieve a common goal… Well, to be perfectly honest, this group leaves a lot to be desired."

There was complete silence around the circle, until finally Cam cleared her throat. Sweets looked at her in surprise – it wasn't that he'd necessarily expected the group to be stumbling over one another to apologize, he just hadn't thought anyone would actively argue Tripp's point. Clearly, he was wrong.

"I'd like to apologize if we worried you and Belle this morning – clearly, we could have done things a little differently," Dr. Saroyan said. "But, I personally take great offense to the idea that our failure on a week-long, recreational wilderness expedition bears any reflection whatsoever on how we work together in the real world. I'll stand behind the record of every one of my people, both individually and as a team, and I resent the implication that we are anything but exemplary at what we do – simply because we might not play by your rules out in the woods."

A moment's silence followed, and Sweets didn't miss the charged glance between Dr. Saroyan and Tripp – he actually did a double-take, uncertain if he'd merely misinterpreted the look they exchanged. But it did indeed seem that some type of silent challenge had been issued; after an obvious contest of wills, Sweets saw Tripp look away first. Despite his headache and the palpable tension around the circle, he was fascinated at this development.

"I – uh, I didn't mean to insinuate that you all aren't very good at your jobs. It's just that – well," Tripp seemed to have forgotten that anyone but Dr. Saroyan was in the conversation. "I believe that there are some things you might actually learn while you're out here, if you'd just be open to the experience. Clearly, Lance wouldn't have suggested the trip – and you, Cam, wouldn't have agreed to it – if there weren't some underlying issues."

Dr. Saroyan didn't seem to have a response to this. Sweets felt as though he should say something, but frankly he couldn't seem to get his thoughts in order enough to do so. And so they all waited in silence, until finally Tripp took a deep breath.

"All right – Listen, I'm not here to lecture you. You're all adults, you don't need me telling you how to live your lives. Regardless of what has and hasn't happened over the course of the past week, you obviously all care for each other, and you've all come a long way. And now I'd like to just do a quick check-in, make sure we're okay, and then let's move on."

Both Tripp and Belle looked at Sweets, waiting for him to add something to the conversation.

"Are you all right, Lance?" Belle finally prompted him.

He raised his eyebrows, which it turns out actually hurt quite a bit. Nevertheless, he nodded.

"I am. Dr. Brennan has assured me that my nose isn't broken, and I think Agent Booth and I have reached an understanding?" he looked at Booth, making a conscious effort not to flinch when their eyes met.

Booth nodded, and Sweets felt better at the obvious weight the agent was giving the moment.

"Yeah, Sweets – we're good. No hard feelings?" He came over and took Sweets hand in a firm, manly grip. They shook hands, and separated. Sweets was frankly somewhat taken aback at the agent's sincerity.

"And everyone else is good?" Tripp asked the rest of the group.

Everyone nodded – which wasn't a surprise, since Sweets had seen them all in a better humor the previous evening than they'd been in since beginning the course.

The instructors nodded their approval. "All right, then," Tripp said. "Let's get on with final expedition. You've got a big day ahead of you, and we're already a couple hours behind schedule.

"So – final expedition," Tripp continued. "We've actually set up something kind of special for you guys this time out – a little different from your standard final expo."

The entire group seemed intrigued by this, each of them waiting silently for him to continue. Belle picked up where Tripp left off, still seated beside Sweets – the psychologist was not oblivious to her glances of concern, which naturally led him to consider the relationship that seemed to be developing between them completely without encouragement from him. Nothing had happened, of course, and he was reasonably certain that nothing would. This was a harmless flirtation, and he did actually have Daisy waiting for him at home – a fact he had conveniently neglected to mention to Belle, but one he was beginning to think would eventually need to be brought to light. He quickly put that thought out of his head for the moment, however, and focused on Belle's words.

"Today, you guys are doing a treasure hunt."

Sweets waited for a group groan; surprisingly enough, one was not forthcoming. No one looked particularly thrilled, but they at least had the decency to remain silent after their less than stellar performance during solo.

"But instead of golden eggs, the treasures this time will be a lot more tasty," Belle continued with enthusiasm.

These words, at least, got the group's attention.

"What – you mean like more granola?" Booth asked suspiciously.

Tripp shook his head, unable to squelch a smile. "No – not like more granola. I won't give you the whole menu, but I will tell you it involves fresh Maine lobster."

Now, everyone was definitely interested. Belle smiled, appearing to actually start enjoying herself now that any issues within the group had been addressed.

"There are three packages hidden somewhere between here and Hurricane Island, where we'll return for our final night. Each package contains ingredients for a lobster bake we'll have once we're back on the island at the end of the day."

"And all we need to do is find these packages," Hodgins said, clearly skeptical.

"I don't buy it," Angela said, echoing Jack's distrust. "What's the catch – the boxes are hidden on the bottom of the ocean floor? We have to find them blindfolded and hog-tied with cement blocks on our feet?"

Both Tripp and Belle laughed aloud at that, though the rest of the group looked less amused.

"No ocean floor, no blindfolds or cement blocks. They won't be in plain sight, but they're not impossible to find by any means. Your first clue is back at the campsite – each clue after that will be hidden in the corresponding package."

Booth jumped up, ready to spring into action. Clearly, Tripp had accurately predicted what was most likely to motivate the agent. "All right, people, you heard the man – we've got real food to find. Let's move!"

"Seeley – will you wait and let them finish?" Cam said, a definite edge to her tone.

"What's to finish?" Booth demanded. "Lobster in a box in the woods. Clue at the campsite. Did I leave anything out?"

Belle took a breath, clearly making an effort not to be overpowered by the force of Booth's personality.

"Actually, yes. There are a few stipulations."

The agent rolled his eyes, but he did sit back down again. Once there, he folded his hands neatly in his lap and looked at Belle with exaggerated patience.

"Of course there are. Sorry, Belle. I'm all ears."

The instructor took a breath, looking flushed and slightly off-balance before she continued.

"Right. So… Um. In order to actually earn the lobster bake – and a bonus I'll tell you about in a minute – you guys all have to arrive together. With your gear and the packages, not later than four p.m."

"It's not possible for us to carry six people, all of our gear, and three full coolers in three tandem kayaks," Brennan said immediately. "Logistically, that seems impossible."

"Actually, it's totally doable," Tripp told her. "It takes some maneuvering, but we've done it more than once."

"So, what's the bonus if we do it?" Angela asked.

Belle held up two keys she was wearing on a string around her neck. "Two all-access passes to the bathhouses on Hurricane Island. Hot water, shampoo, shiny new razors…"

Angela was on her feet before the sentence was out. "Oh, I am so there. All right, you guys – "

Everyone else followed her lead – Sweets hadn't seen them all so motivated since their arrival seven days before.

"So," Angela continued. "We can do this. I mean – we put away bad guys for a living, for god's sake. We can find three boxes of food and get them back to an island."

"By four o'clock," Brennan added.

"By four o'clock," Angela agreed. "And what time is it now?"

Tripp raised his wrist to show them his watch. "Eight-thirty."

Booth raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? Damn. Okay, guys – everybody grab their gear. Bones – "

Brennan looked up in surprise, as though she'd been lost in thought.

"What?" she responded uncertainly, and Sweets was almost positive that something unspoken passed between them in that moment. He just couldn't say exactly what.

"You need a lift back to your stuff?" he asked, which Sweets didn't understand until he remembered that she'd had no shoes the previous evening.

Brennan looked similarly confused for a few seconds, before she shook her head.

"Oh – uh no, I'm all right. Belle brought my shoes."

Booth nodded, giving her another enigmatic smile before he began packing up his meager belongings. Moments later, the group had everything they needed in hand and began the trek back to the campsite, following Belle and Tripp's lead.

It took less than twenty minutes to get back to the camp now that they weren't blindfolded or being led in circles by their instructors. Even so, by the time they reached the site Sweets was sweating profusely, his head pounding and a gnawing hunger in his empty stomach. They ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, fresh berries, and coffee – everyone ravenous after the virtual fast the day before, and silently intent on their meal.

When they were finished, Belle and Tripp stood and gestured toward the horizon.

"All right, guys – we're gonna take off. We'll see you on Hurricane by four."

Cam looked at Tripp in disbelief. "Wait – you're just leaving us here? Just like that?"

Tripp looked… what? Sweets tried to read him. Uncomfortable? Regretful? It was impossible to tell, but it was definitely something.

"You've got charts. Compass. Kayaks. A beautiful, clear day. You'll be fine. I'll – " he stopped himself, looking uncharacteristically flustered. "We'll see you tonight."

And with that, they left.

Which meant the group was left on their own. Sweets was definitely expecting a Lord of the Flies type scenario, but was surprised when Angela cleared her throat and took center stage.

"All right, here's the deal – we can do this, right? But I think we should decide here and now how it's gonna play out. Who leads, who follows, what goes where?"

Cam nodded. "Angela's right – we need to be as organized as possible. That means…" she did a brief assessment of the team, impressively focused as she looked over each member.

"Booth, Brennan – you take the lead. Jack and Sweets will follow in the second kayak; Angela and I will bring up the rear."

Booth looked at her in surprise. "Wait – really? Bones? But you and me did such a great job the other day – "

Sweets didn't miss the veiled look of disappointment Brennan gave the agent, though Booth seemed oblivious. Cam simply shook her head, however. "If we have to do that again, I will in all honesty – and I'm not kidding – kill you. I don't know exactly how you and Dr. Brennan do what you do – and honestly, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that you guys work as an effective team, which is what we need. And Sweets isn't exactly at a hundred percent today, which means he could use a strong paddler to pick up the slack. And Angela and I will bring up the rear to make sure Sweets doesn't actually end up concussed on the bottom of the Atlantic before the day's out."

Sweets started to protest, but found that his head hurt too much to make any real effort.

Instead, he silently helped the others as they packed up the campsite and prepared to move on.

* * *

"Okay, so we've got the teams," Booth addressed the group moments later, all gathered on the beach beside their respective kayaks, which were laden with gear. "We're packed. We're ready. Now where the hell's the clue?"

Hodgins was the one who found it, placed conveniently on the seat of his kayak.

"Well, that's not very sneaky," Booth said.

"I don't think the point was to conceal it," Sweets told him. "I think they were trying to leave it in an obvious location to expedite the mission."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever – I don't care what they were trying to do. I just care what it says."

The group gathered around Hodgins, who looked at each of them in turn before reading the note aloud.

"Mary had a little lamb,  
Beneath a shelter black as night,  
And everywhere that Mary went  
The bells rang with all their might."

The group was silent.

"That's all it says?" Angela finally asked, a pained expression on her face.

Hodgins handed it to her. "Unless the rest is written in invisible ink." He pulled it back quickly. "Wait – just a second." He held the paper up to the sun, tilting it back and forth for a moment before relinquishing it.

"Nope. That's all it says."

Brennan furrowed her brow in puzzlement. "That makes no sense whatsoever," she announced.

"Well, yeah, Bones – that's kinda the point," Booth said. He looked at Hodgins. "So, what do you think – maybe like a substitution code, something like that?"

Hodgins sighed. "Well – hang on, let me see." He began writing out the alphabet in the sand, crossing letters out and adding numbers, putting in decimal points and fractions and a complicated string of symbols before Sweets finally interrupted.

"You know, we're not actually dealing with the secret service here. They _want _us to find these things. By four o'clock. I don't think we need a state-of-the-art computer program to decode this."

Cam nodded. "Sweets is right – we're making it way too complicated. It's probably just a simple riddle – where's the chart?"

Brennan produced it, unfurling the thick paper and laying it in the sand.

"So – Mary had a little lamb. Lamb… Could be sheep?" Angela asked hesitantly.

"There s a Sheep Island due east, on the way back to Hurricane," Sweets said, unable to conceal his excitement. "And there's an old bell tower on the far side of the island – I've passed by it like a thousand times over the years. I bet that's where they put the package."

"Okay – Sheep Island. So we should go there," Booth said immediately. "It's on the way – by the time we get it, we'll be halfway back to Hurricane. Then just grab the last two boxes, and we're home free."

It sounded deceptively simple. Unfortunately, Sheep Island wasn't easy to get to during low tide, surrounded as it was on one side by jagged rocks and driving current, and deep muddy clam flats on the other. Nevertheless, the old bell tower Sweets remembered was plainly visible as they paddled closer.

"So, how do we get to it?" Booth called to Sweets.

Sweets shrugged, glancing at his watch. Ten-thirty already, and they hadn't even gotten the first package.

"I don't know – I've never actually been on the island, just paddled by it."

He thought he read disappointment on the others' faces, but then it was gone and Booth and Brennan were paddling closer to the island.

"I think we should just beach here and walk in," Brennan said, calling over her shoulder.

Jack looked at Sweets with a shrug. "I guess it couldn't hurt," he said. The six of them paddled in together.

Once they'd gotten as close as possible to the shoreline, Booth called out.

"We need two people to stay with the boats, make sure they don't drift off. Ange?"

Angela nodded. "Hell yeah – Cam and I will stay."

Sweets felt strangely exhilarated when he realized he'd been chosen to go on the expedition with the others – something that rarely happened for him. He'd been staying behind, acting as lookout while others did the adventuring since he was a child.

He and Brennan each handed their lines off to Angela, and then the chosen four awkwardly stepped from their kayaks into the mud beneath. The cool water was a relief after the heat of the day, and Sweets was instantly immersed – both literally and figuratively – in the clam flats he'd frequented since childhood. They had a rich, salty odor that was as pungent as any live thing, the smell rising up in waves in the heat. Sweets sank to his ankles on the first step, clam shells scraping his bare legs as he pulled his feet out. The foursome moved forward slowly, the earth swallowing them up and belching them out once more with loud, undignified slurps and squelches.

"Jesus," Booth complained. "What the hell? People make their living digging in this sludge?"

Sweets thought of childhood outings in the summer, carrying shovel and pail, wearing sunhat and six layers of sunblock. He and his mother would scan the flats for the tell-tale, pin-sized air holes indicating the presence of clams or mussels. At the end of the day, his father would cook up whatever spoils he'd brought home, as proudly as if he'd supplied a five-course meal. Sweets sort of liked the clam flats.

"It'll get better once we're closer into shore," he told them. He scanned the shoreline, then pointed to a cluster of fine pebbles and packed sand. "There – just go that way and we'll be on solid ground soon."

He was right. Soon enough, they were rinsing their water shoes in a tide pool and preparing to hit the woods. Booth led the charge up a steep granite cliff toward the tower, none of them speaking in the intense heat.

It took less time than he'd expected for them to find the tower, a squat, round, granite structure at the highest point on the island. It was cooler inside than out, damp and dark and musty. Brennan was in front, with Booth behind her – Sweets heard her say something to Booth when they reached the top of the granite staircase, and then a quiet, surprisingly intimate laugh from Booth, but he couldn't make out their words. At the top, Brennan called back down the stairs.

"You were right, Sweets – it's here!" her voice echoed back to them, and Sweets couldn't help but grin in triumph.

The upper level was narrow, a rusted iron bar the only thing keeping them from plummeting to the cliffs below. Sweets purposely avoided looking that way, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the bright red cooler sitting directly below an old, cracked bell suspended from the ceiling.

"Okay, now we're talkin'," Booth said, rubbing his hands together before he opened the cooler and began rummaging through the spoils.

"Potatoes, corn on the cob, fresh green beans…" he laughed a little. "Chocolate. Damn." He shook his head with mock gravity. "I don't know if you guys have ever seen a grown man cry before, but this just might be the night."

Brennan stood at the railing, apparently having lost interest in the cooler. "You guys, you should see this," she said quietly, a kind of reverence Sweets had never heard from her before. They followed her suggestion, the four squeezed in tightly looking out over the island beneath. The water was a brilliant, pure blue in the sunlight, the granite cliffs breathtaking and jagged and wild.

"So…" Hodgins finally said, effectively ending the moment. "We got the cooler. Now we ring the bell, head back, and figure out how the hell to get it back to Hurricane."

Sweets did the honors, listening closely as the bell echoed across the water, over the cliffs, off into the unknown. He glanced at his watch with a shake of his head, unable to believe how quickly the day was passing them by. It was eleven o'clock exactly.

* * *

Day Seven  
Cam  
11a.m. – 4p.m.

She'd never intended to kiss Tripp Axel. For one thing, his name was Tripp Axel – which was a ridiculous name for a grown man to have. Of course, once she _had_ kissed Tripp – the night after the Crack, when Angela and Jack were just getting back together and Booth and Brennan were dancing their dance and Belle and Sweets were reliving the best of Degrassi High – she definitely didn't intend for it to happen again. But then there would be those little touches here and there, and Jeremy showed up and had been so attentive that she thought Tripp was gonna blow a gasket before the night was out… And then came solo, and she definitely hadn't expected him to show up in hour three of her solitary day on the beach with a handful of condoms and soft-spoken promises.

Not that she believed the promises – she hadn't just fallen off the turnip truck, after all. She thought it a little strange that he bothered with them in the first place; she wasn't exactly that kind of woman. She was used to edgy, cynical men who knew the rules and generally abided by them – call within three days of the first date, the day after the first sex, don't talk about other women, don't ask about other men… There were a dozen other rules, so ingrained by now that Cam didn't really think about them anymore. Tripp seemed unaware of any of these, however – the first night after they kissed, he wanted to know about her relationship with Seeley, about how long Angela and Jack had been dating, how long she'd been single. He asked her how often she got to Maine, and when she laughed outright he'd actually looked hurt.

_Hurt_. Who the hell was this guy?

It turned out that Tripp was a widower, which set off all kinds of warning bells that Cam foolishly ignored. His wife died of cancer fifteen years before – he'd dated occasionally, traveled extensively, worked sporadically, ever since. He didn't get overly emotional while he was telling the story, which was good… Cam was pretty sure she couldn't have handled that. He was sweet when he talked about it, but they didn't dwell on the subject and before long he had her laughing so hard she could barely breathe, telling stories about leading corporate retreats in the Andes and teaching six-year-olds to surf the Barbary Coast.

She liked him.

Damn it.

When he crashed her solo, he said, "I shouldn't be doing this." And he seemed to mean it.

He apologized again when she was on top of him with his hands on her breasts and her eyes closed, finally beginning to really see some merit to this whole Outward Bound thing.

"I bet that's what you tell all the girls," she gasped, feeling the pressure build, that sweet coil tightening at her center.

Afterward, when they lay together in her sleeping bag, nose to nose with barely enough room for a full breath, he looked at her seriously.

"I've never slept with one of my students during a course before," he told her.

She didn't know what to say, but it occurred to her somewhat unexpectedly that he was telling the truth. She didn't really know what to do with that kind of honesty – it seemed corny, and yet he was this good looking, funny, intelligent, well-traveled man. Was it really so terrible that he had a little streak of corn in there?

They were in the middle of that conversation when Cam heard rustling in the woods. Tripp barely had time to grab his clothes and dive for cover before Sweets appeared. And then, Sweets's arrival led to the search for Booth, and ultimately to the Solo That Wasn't, and that little lecture from Tripp that had seriously pissed her off. Mostly because he clearly had no call to bitch about breaking solo when he was the one who'd shown up at her site with the condoms and the promises. She never could stand a hypocrite.

But, all that was behind her now, and the team still had two packages to find before Cam stood a shot at a shower and a decent meal. She sat in the kayak with Angela, and the rest of the crew had barely left the scene before Angela turned to her speculatively.

"So – Tripp, huh?"

Cam gave her a cool smile. Or what would have been a cool smile, if she'd bathed in the past week and it was less than ninety degrees out. "Yeah, I am so not talking about that."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on – dish. He's obviously pretty into you."

"Where do you get that?" Cam couldn't resist asking, which was _not _a good sign.

"Oh, please. The way he was looking at you this morning – it was pretty hard to miss."

Cam shrugged. "It's nothing," she said dismissively. She thought of Grayson – Angela's Grayson, no less. God. It did actually feel good to date someone who had nothing to do with the rest of the group – wasn't in love with one of her co-workers or formerly married to another co-worker. That was a definite plus to this whole Tripp thing. Whatever it was.

Thankfully, the group returned before Angela could really start digging into what the relationship with Tripp was and was not. They dragged a huge red cooler through the heat and the rocks and the stinking mud flats, and Hodgins produced the second clue with a flourish.

"Where are you going little buoy blue,  
All the way back to marker fifty-two,  
Ring the ring and ding the dong,  
But make it quick, you won't have long.

"And buoy is spilled B-U-O-Y," he added.

Booth snorted. "These are the lamest riddles I've ever heard."

Cam rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well just be grateful they are – it's after eleven and the blue buoy they're talking about is back beyond the island we just left."

Seeley stared at her in disbelief. "You're kiddin' me," he said, clearly exasperated.

"She's right," Sweets said immediately. "So – who's going? I assume someone should stay with the cooler."

"Yeah, that's good," Cam agreed. "No point dragging it with us if we don't have to. So – who goes, who stays?"

"We're definitely going," Seeley said immediately, before Brennan had a chance to weigh in one way or the other. Not that it appeared she was arguing the point – Cam knew from experience that Brennan was hardly the type to stay behind on any mission.

Hodgins looked game for anything, but Sweets was definitely getting a little rundown. Cam debated for a few seconds before handing down the bad news.

"Jack – mind if we swap? Ange, you stay with Sweets and the cooler – Hodgins and I will go with Booth and Brennan."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm really gonna fight you on that one." She grabbed her sketch pad and daypack, gamely hopping into the mud and taking Hodgins's seat. As the scientist was walking away, Angela grabbed him by the t-shirt and kissed him quickly.

"Don't drown," she ordered.

He grinned, looking endearingly flustered. "Yeah. Uh – I won't. You either."

She smiled. "I'll do my best."

Jack gave them a push out to sea, then pulled himself into the front of the kayak.

"All right – let's get this show on the road," he said to Cam, still grinning. "Daddy needs a shower and a shave."

It took nearly an hour to get back to the buoy, working against the current and the incoming tide. Though she hated to admit it, Cam had been watching Booth and Brennan all morning, trying to figure out if something had happened between them after Angela's crafty little dare. There were no obvious signs, but it seemed to her that they were a little… off their game, maybe. They both had circles under their eyes, and even Seeley – who looked better than just about any man she'd ever known ninety-nine percent of the time – looked like hell. Their banter wasn't at its usual level, and a couple of times she noticed that rather than argue with Brennan, Seeley just dropped the subject and moved on.

But, maybe he was just tired.

Once they got to the buoy, Jack stripped off his shirt and maneuvered himself into the water with surprising grace – the kayak barely rocked, the water barely rippled. He swam over to the bright blue, metal buoy, holding a green rope up for them to see.

"Wanna bet this leads to something we're looking for?" he asked.

He vanished beneath the surface of the water, disappearing from sight long enough that Cam began to have some reservations about sending him down there. He resurfaced a good fifty yards away, gasping for breath.

"Got it!" he shouted. "Paddle on over and help me with it – it's heavy."

A few minutes later, they had the cooler balanced precariously between the two kayaks in an attempt to capsize neither the boats nor the cooler.

"So – we should open it now, right?" Cam asked. "In case the third clue is for something near here – we don't wanna have to back-track again."

Seeley nodded. "Just make sure it stays above the surface. Hodgins, can you help me hold it up?"

The other man nodded. The guys each took one end of the rope, holding it taut while they braced their legs inside the kayak seats to maintain their balance. Brennan opened the cooler and looked through the contents.

"Milk. Fresh bread. Butter. Shampoo." She sorted through until it seemed she'd forgotten herself and nearly capsized all of them – kayaks, cooler, and everyone aboard.

"Geez, Bones – careful, huh? We don't want to lose this stuff," Seeley said irritably.

She gave him a 'stuff it' look that was unusually effective – Booth shut his mouth, and Brennan produced a note from the bottom of the cooler.

"The last clue," she said proudly. She read it silently to herself – Cam looked at Seeley in surprise, waiting for him to pop a blood vessel while he waited for her to either read the thing aloud or hand it over. He didn't say a word. Okay, something was definitely up between them.

Finally, Cam couldn't handle it anymore. "Uh – Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan looked up, like she was surprised anyone was still there.

"It makes no sense," she finally announced. "And the rhyme scheme is extremely poorly executed."

That was the final straw. Mercifully, Booth broke. "Just read it, Bones. God, you're killin' me."

She shot him another look, cleared her throat, and read.

"Adrift at sea  
You'll find the devil's world.  
And there be the bugs  
Plucked straight from the ocean's floor."

"Bugs are lobsters," Hodgins said immediately. "It's a colloquialism fishermen use. Plus, Tripp said we'd be getting some, so…"

"Yeah, but adrift at sea in the devil's world?" Booth said doubtfully. "What the hell does that mean? It doesn't even rhyme."

"I told you," Brennan said.

They sat there for a minute or more before Cam sighed. "Well – maybe Sweets will have an idea. Let's get this one back there, and get headed toward Hurricane."

It was already twelve-thirty, which didn't bode well. Depending on where they found the third cooler, the trip back to Hurricane Island could take anywhere from one to three hours – and they didn't have that kind of time.

They were quiet as they made their way back to Sweets and Angela. Cam was busy thinking about just what, exactly, she planned to do about Tripp and whether or not he was really pissed at her or just the whole group. And if he was pissed at her, he had some nerve. She didn't even really know why she was thinking about any of this – it wasn't like she'd ever see him again, once the course was over. How often had she been to Maine before this? Twice, and never willingly. And definitely not to hang out in the woods without a hot shower or a real bed.

She was so lost in her internal monologue that she almost didn't notice the lobster boat idling not far off their portside.

"Jack," she said, gradually coming back down to earth. "Can you read the name of that boat?"

After a second or two, he laughed out loud. "Hades!"

"Looks like we just found the devil's world," she said, unable to contain a smile. She wondered if Tripp was the poet in the group, or if that responsibility fell on Belle's shoulders. She kind of hoped it was Tripp – it would be nice to know there was at least one thing the man did badly.

"So, how the hell do we haul this and another cooler back to Sweets and Angela, then get all three coolers back to Hurricane? We're barely making progress with the one we're dragging now," Booth complained, once he and Brennan were drifting alongside them.

They finally decided that Booth and Brennan would stay with the one cooler, while Jack and Cam paddled over to the lobster boat and asked for whatever Tripp had left for them. The lobstermen looked exactly how Cam imagined Maine lobstermen should look – weathered and calloused and rough, Led Zeppelin cranked up high and the two men wearing only torn cargo shorts, thick gloves and rubber boots, their backs burned from the sun and their muscles taut from a life of manual labor. One was blonde, the other dark-haired, both of them probably in their thirties.

"You from Outward Bound?" the blonde shouted, turning down the music and calling out over the roar of the engine.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Did Tripp leave something for us?"

The other man grinned. "Lobster bake tonight, huh?"

Another nod from Jack, the mountain man. It occurred to Cam that this must be a regular occurrence for these guys – that Tripp must know them, must preorder the lobsters and arrange the pickup.

"You guys should come," Cam said, which kind of shocked her.

They both grinned at that. "You gonna be there?"

She grinned right back. "Oh yeah, I'll be there."

The dark-haired man pulled a green, wire mesh cage up from just below the surface of the water. Once the ocean water had spilled out, Cam stared at it – it was teeming with lobsters and crabs, a cluster of mussels, a starfish somewhere at the bottom.

Jack turned back to look at her. "Holy shit. How the hell are we getting that thing back to Hurricane?"

Cam thought about it for a few seconds, before she finally came up with a solution. "I don't suppose you guys might do us a favor," she said.

Two hours later, the trio of tandem kayaks met up once more with the guys on the lobster boat, this time just outside the cove leading into Hurricane Island. The men – Will was the dark-haired one, Tim was the blonde – carefully handed off the two coolers and the lobster trap, which they'd agreed to transport this far.

"You sure you can get them the rest of the way?" Tim asked skeptically.

Cam laughed out loud. "Not at all. But we're almost there – Tripp won't let us drown if we start to sink, right?"

Will nodded. "Yeah, he'll keep an eye on you."

"Are you guys still coming out to the party tonight?" Jack asked.

The two men looked at each other and shrugged. "What the fuck, sure. Got nothin' better to do."

And with that ringing endorsement, they handed off the line for the lobster trap, turned up the music, and waved goodbye.

Booth and Brennan were in charge of the lobster trap, which was about three times heavier than the coolers. Angela and Sweets were doing okay with their cooler - they tied the line onto the back of the kayak and as soon as they got some momentum going, Cam was happy to see that the cooler trailed along behind them. The same was true for Jack and Cam, once they got going. She looked behind her to find that Booth and Brennan, however, weren't making much progress.

"We have to come in together," Cam shouted ahead, because it seemed like Sweets and Angela had forgotten all about that whole damned teamwork thing.

"If we stop, the cooler's gonna go down," Sweets told her.

Which was when Angela apparently lost her mind, because all of a sudden she stripped off her shirt and shimmied her way into the water.

"The hell it is," she shouted just before she went in. The artist swam back to the cooler, holding it up until Cam and Jack pulled their own kayak alongside.

Jack grinned down at her as they passed, shaking his head. "Hey, baby," he said casually.

"Hey yourself – get the hell in here and pull your weight 'til Booth and Brennan can catch up."

Moments later, Jack was in the water alongside her, the two of them treading water while they each supported their respective coolers. It took another ten minutes before Booth and Brennan had gotten enough momentum to propel not only their kayak but the lobster trap as well, through the water. Once they had, they paddled for all they were worth while Sweets and Cam did the same, Angela and Jack swimming along behind, pushing the coolers as they went.

Jeremy, Belle, and Tripp were all waiting for them on shore when they finally beached. Tripp seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be instructing, because he made straight for Cam and she got this weird, unfamiliar lightness in her chest when he grinned at her.

"You made it."

She stepped out of the kayak and helped drag it onto the beach.

"What, you thought I wouldn't?"

He sort of squinted in the sun, and she realized that he'd showered and shaved since she'd seen him that morning. She remembered meeting him that first day, and she thought about how much had changed since that time.

"Didn't cross my mind," he said honestly, in answer to her question.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He held up his watch for her to see, and she grinned triumphantly.

Four o'clock exactly.

* * *

Day Seven  
Brennan  
4 – 11p.m.

Booth told her the story in the early morning, a deep pink sunrise on the horizon and the others still sleeping around them. They'd long since given up on sleep themselves, but Brennan was comfortable where she was and too tired to think about what it meant, so they just talked. A couple of times over the course of the night, she'd felt his erection pressed against her, and she knew that physically she was beyond prepared for a sexual encounter. But he didn't say anything, and she didn't say anything, and the fact that they'd had the conversation the day before made the entire subject somehow moot.

By the time he began telling her about his first arrest, she'd decided she didn't want to know – it was clearly deeply personal to him, and she was certain that she would say the wrong thing, somehow ruining the trust he seemed to place so easily in her hands. Obviously, though, once he began talking about it, it didn't seem appropriate to stop him. Instead, she lay silently with her head on his chest, listening to his words.

"I told you a little about my old man, right?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Right. So, the thing is that when you grow up in a family like mine," he said quietly, a certain tension already coloring his tone. "You learn to read people pretty early, you know?" She didn't, actually, but she didn't say that. It didn't matter though, because he continued regardless.

"Like – what it means when the car door slams a certain way, or how to ask a question without setting anybody off, when it's safe to say something and when to keep your mouth shut."

He swallowed, and she listened to the sound of his heart and thought about the blood that coursed through his veins, the organs beneath his skin, the bones that she understood and the countless thousands of things that she did not. She lay a hand on his stomach and felt the muscles tighten at her touch, then relax.

"And when you're a kid," he continued, that tension still evident in his voice. "You follow the rules – you make sure the table's set and Mom has dinner ready by five-thirty. That she's dressed the right way, that you're dressed the right way, that your kid brother has his homework done and there are no toys on the living room floor. You get really good at keepin' things straight."

He shrugged. His voice had taken on a distant quality, as though he was lost in memories Brennan suddenly wished she could erase. It was an irrational desire, but it was what she wanted nonetheless.

"So, anyway… You get older, and you start to get tired of all those rules. Start to get a little pissed off, because you see other kids who don't walk that tight-wire every fuckin' day and you start to think, 'That prick. Who the hell does he think he is?' And that's when things start to get tricky."

She shifted, suddenly wanting to see him. A flock of seagulls was shrieking in the distance, diving headlong into the water, and it promised to be a beautiful day. She knew that they should get up – that the others would be waking soon, that Belle and Tripp were probably desperately searching for them by now, but all she wanted in that instant was to look him in the eye. To see that he'd made it through, that he wasn't as damaged as she was sure she would have been in his place.

"How old were you when things started to get… tricky?" she asked, hoping that it wasn't the wrong question.

He smiled grimly, never turning from her gaze. She liked that about him – other men were frequently intimidated by how direct she could be, but Booth never looked away.

"Thirteen or fourteen, I think. I'd been playing sports since I was a kid, then I started lifting weights, doing some boxing once I hit high school. I'd been sort of scrambling at home for so long, trying to make sure everything was just right so my old man didn't get pissed off – and then all of a sudden I just kinda realized that it wasn't working. He still got pissed off. He still…" He shook his head, didn't finish the sentence. "Anyway, it wasn't working. So, I thought... Time to change strategies."

They shifted so that they were lying side by side now, facing one another. He ran his thumb along her cheekbones, her forehead, her lips – it didn't seem deliberate, and she wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

"And you began to use intimidation?" she asked, still not sure whether it was appropriate to ask questions. But he hadn't balked at one yet, so she had to assume they were still all right.

"Pretty much, yeah," he nodded. "Even though I had sports after school, I always tried to make sure I was home before he got there. Or at least before he started getting wound up, which usually wasn't until eight or nine. And if he tried anything, I'd just be there to step in. I'd usually just take it on the chin, but at least it wasn't Jared or my mom by then. I told him if he laid a hand on them anymore, he'd…" he shrugged. "Anyway, I told him. It worked, more or less. But then there was this one night – it was fall, football season. I was sixteen. There was an away game that night, so I didn't get home until about eleven."

He fell silent. His jaw was tensed – his whole body, in fact, was tensed. His dark eyes had taken on a distant cast, and Brennan knew that he wasn't seeing her anymore. She wished that she knew what to do, what gesture to make or words to say to bring him back. But she didn't, so she just waited in silence before she finally prompted him.

"What happened then?" she asked, and when he continued she knew she wouldn't be able to bring him back until he was through.

"Something set him off while I was gone. I got home and there was nothing weird about the place, but you know how when we go to a scene sometimes, you can just… tell?"

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

"So, yeah... I just knew something was wrong. The kitchen was cleaned up, the dishes were done, my dad was passed out in front of the TV and Jared and my mom were both in bed. But I just had this feeling, you know? So, I started looking around – checking the cupboards. Nothing weird there. The bathroom. Nothing out of place, not so much as a hair in the sink or a spot on the tile. But, I just couldn't get it out of my head that something had happened. So I checked the garbage."

She waited, realized she was holding her breath in anticipation.

"There was a broken casserole dish inside, most of the casserole thrown away with it. And mixed in with it was this huge gob of wet, bloody paper towels. And it just hit me, all of a sudden, that I couldn't keep them safe. Not unless I quit sports and never left home, or kidnapped Jared and my mom and ran away with them, or something nuts like that. There was no way. I'd been trying to get my mom to leave since I was a kid, and I knew it wasn't gonna happen. And so I just kind of… snapped." His voice was level as he continued, his forehead furrowed as though he was trying to sort through the details. "I took a knife from the kitchen drawer, and I went into the living room and watched him sleep for a while before I…" he trailed off.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You killed your father?"

He rolled his eyes, actually grinning at her. "No, Bones – Jesus, you think you can join the FBI if you bump off your old man at sixteen? I stuck him in the shoulder, he screamed, my mom woke up, she called the cops. They took me in and put me in a cell for the night, but they'd been out to our house enough over the years to know he had it comin'."

"So he didn't press charges?" she asked.

"Fuck no. He'd knocked out two of Jared's teeth that night when Jared said he didn't like the casserole they were having. What's my old man gonna tell the cops when his other kid shows up with a swollen jaw and his front teeth missing? He dropped the charges. I went home the next night. Survived two more years, joined the Army when I turned eighteen."

He continued to follow the lines of her face with his thumb, back in the present now.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she was.

"Yeah…" he shrugged. "I am too, in some ways. But in some ways…"

"You're glad your father was an abusive alcoholic who terrorized your family?" she asked skeptically.

He actually laughed at that, which was good because it definitely hadn't come out the way she'd intended.

"No, Bones. Geez. But… I mean, I know it's corny but I really do sorta believe everything happens for a reason."

"Because God has a plan," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "You don't have to say it like that, Bones. But… yeah. I'm sorry, that's what I believe. So, if my old man wasn't a jackass, maybe I wouldn't've joined the Army. Or become a sniper. Or met Rebecca, and knocked her up – which means I never would've had Parker. And you know I'm nuts about my kid. And if I hadn't been a sniper, I wouldn't have gotten into the FBI – and I love my job. And if I hadn't landed in the FBI, I never would've met you." He grinned endearingly, still not breaking eye contact. "And right now I'm kinda glad I met you, Bones."

"Me too, Booth," she said quietly, not sure if he understood just how much she meant it.

They got up after that, cleaned up the campsite and were reprimanded for breaking solo and then spent the day reading poorly written clues and retrieving coolers full of food. When they found the bell tower, she went up first and Booth put his hand on her behind while she was walking up and it was just a small thing, but the simple contact – doubtlessly combined with lack of proper sleep or nourishment and too much sun exposure – had been enough to make her momentarily lightheaded. She stumbled, just slightly, and he laughed at her.

"Geez, Bones – careful," he whispered in her ear, steadying her with a hand at her elbow. "I was just coppin' a feel, don't pass out on me."

She rolled her eyes, but she found it difficult to deny her quickening pulse when he touched her. With extraordinary effort, she didn't think about what would happen once they got back to D.C. She didn't think about what this shift meant, or what he was thinking, or what she was thinking. She definitely did not think about their partnership, or whether this meant that she should buy a bigger TV for her apartment or if he would expect her to go to baseball games or if she was supposed to begin spending time with Parker. And if she was supposed to begin spending time with Parker, what exactly were they supposed to do?

No, she definitely was_ not_ thinking about any of those things.

By the time they got back to Hurricane Island, towing their coolers and their lobsters and their bedraggled, very pungent selves, Brennan was exhausted. She hadn't slept at all the night before, despite having circumnavigated the island in ice cold ocean waters the previous day. The flood of hormones that seemed to accompany her overnight with Booth had left her shaky and off-balance, and she suddenly felt a very keen desire to retreat. She was aware that Booth was watching her, waiting for signs that she was 'freaking out,' as he called it.

Thankfully, Belle handed over keys to the showers as soon as they reached the island, which gave Brennan a perfect excuse to have some time to herself.

"Fresh towels are up at the bathhouse," Belle explained. "Just follow the trail up the hill here – it's your first right. Don't forget your shampoo."

The three women went up together, none of them saying a word. It seemed suddenly to Brennan that everything had been said – they'd been together constantly for the past seven days, discussing both the most and the least significant aspects of their lives in that time. She wondered if she would ever have anything to say to any of them, ever again. That was clearly an overstatement, but at the very least she knew she didn't have the energy to communicate with anyone just then.

The bathhouse was primitive, but it was better than the poorly ventilated, weak showers they'd taken before going to the medical clinic a few days before. The water pressure was more than adequate, and the water at least started out hot before quickly giving way to cooler and cooler temperatures. Brennan retreated to her own stall, and was surprised to find herself crying when the first spray of hot water hit her face. She did so quietly, not wanting to be heard by the others, and pressed her head against the cool tile, letting the water run through her hair, down her spine, trailing in rivers over the places where Booth had touched her, the points where their bodies had connected in the past twenty-four hours.

It wasn't despair, she realized – that definitely wasn't why she was crying. She had no idea how to feel about what seemed to be happening with Booth, but it seemed to her that that might be all right, for the moment. She was exhausted. Grateful for the people in her life. Moved by the ways that Booth trusted her when she'd done nothing to earn that trust; shaken by how much she cared about him, and terrified that she would do something to ruin everything that was happening, that she would push him away and the friendship would be lost.

But, despite all of those thoughts, it wasn't despair. Just exhaustion.

She washed her hair, working to untangle the knots until the hot water was gone and the cool water was almost cold. She shaved her legs, and under her arms. She flossed and brushed her teeth. When she finally emerged, Cam and Angela were nowhere to be found and she realized she'd completely lost track of time. Still, she felt renewed – as though she'd sloughed her old skin, emerging pink and shining and reborn.

* * *

For some reason, Brennan found herself slightly surprised to learn there were other students on the island when she emerged from the showers. It seemed that their group was the only one that had to work for their dinner – everyone else apparently merely had to arrive at the designated location at the appointed time, and they'd be fed. Brennan supposed that this was because no one else's group had broken solo, physically assaulted another member of their team, or repeatedly refused to answer the questions the instructors asked of them.

However, the other students apparently hadn't been given access to the bathhouse, which somehow made up for the lengths they'd gone to to procure their dinner. As she made her way along the trail leading to the rocks where the rest of the students were waiting, Brennan could already smell the food grilling in the open air. A group of teenagers in matching Outward Bound t-shirts and greasy, stained bandanas greeted her with smiles and an affable 'Hey,' and she appreciated the lack of downcast eyes or defensive body postures.

It wasn't as though the island was teeming with people – perhaps fifty in all, scattered in groups on the granite rocks, clutching paper plates and bright red, paper cups. A long, primitive looking grill had been set up at the edge of the woods, haphazard rows of foil-wrapped corn on the cob and baked potatoes waiting. She selected a bright red lobster and a small bowl of melted butter, baked potato, green beans and salad and corn, before she decided she could always come back if she wanted more.

After a few seconds of scanning the crowd, she spotted her group seated in a semi-circle on a rock at the water's edge, and made a concerted effort to ignore her quickening pulse at sight of Booth. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he wore a gray Outward Bound sweatshirt that he must have purchased from the school store. Despite how much she'd scrubbed, Brennan was still wearing clothes that reeked of campfire smoke, salt, and body odor – she wished silently that she'd thought of the school store.

Once she reached the group, Booth scooted over and she sat down beside him, trying to ignore the feeling that she was somehow doing something out of the ordinary. She always sat beside Booth, she reminded herself. Nothing was different.

"I thought we lost you for a minute there, Bones. Ange and Cam said they didn't think you were ever coming out."

She rolled her eyes. "I hadn't bathed in five days, and in case you forgot, I was forced to spend the night in an unventilated, overheated sleeping bag with someone else who hadn't bathed for five days," she looked pointedly at Angela, who grinned at this. Brennan breathed an internal sigh of relief – _See, _she thought to herself. _Nothing's different. _"I deserved a long shower."

Everyone ate too much. Laughed, told stories, talked about what they missed about home and what they were dreading upon their return. Booth told a story about protecting a diplomat who believed she was inhabited by the spirit of Jackson Pollock – the entire group burst into laughter when he admitted that the entire time, he couldn't figure out why the woman thought she was possessed by an overpaid CPA. Booth took one look at Brennan once the story was finished and just shook his head, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Forget it, Bones. I'll explain later." She didn't know why, but the intimacy of the remark – the idea that she would see him later, once dinner was over and everyone else had gone their separate ways, seemed strangely thrilling. She supposed it was the lack of sleep.

When everyone was too full to eat another bite, Tripp stood with a grin and nodded toward a building sheltered by the trees.

"All right, gang – sorry to tell you this, but you guys are actually on galley duty tonight."

Cam groaned. "You've got to be kidding. We'll be up all night."

Even Brennan didn't miss it when Tripp rested a hand on the back of Cam's neck, letting it linger there a little longer than seemed appropriate.

"Don't worry – I'll help. You guys'll be done in no time."

Booth got up then, offering Brennan his hand as he pulled her to her feet. Once they were face to face, he waited until the others had ventured up the trail before he stopped her with his hand on her arm.

"Hey, Bones – hang on, I got ya something. I mean – it's nothing big, I just… you know, I just didn't want to give it to you in front of everybody, in case they thought it was weird."

He hesitated, and Brennan wasn't sure whether or not she was supposed to respond. So, she just stood there and he just stood there, until finally she raised her eyebrows at him in question.

"Booth? Is it… I mean, is it something… _here_?"

"Oh!" He came to at her question, though he seemed increasingly flustered. "Yeah – it is. But, like I said, it's nothing big." He rummaged through his day pack until he finally produced a sweatshirt similar to the one he was wearing, though this one was a dark blue.

"Like I said, it's no big deal. I just figured, you know, you wouldn't have any clean clothes until tomorrow, and this might be nice to curl up in. And if you don't like the color you can exchange it – you just… I mean, you look kind of pretty in blue. Because of your eyes." He took a breath, and she couldn't help but smile – she'd never seen him like this.

He rolled his eyes. "And now you're laughing at me. Nice. I knew I shouldn't have gotten it."

And then she really did laugh, because the whole thing suddenly seemed so absurd – Booth was rambling like a lunatic and she, Temperance Brennan, was the tactful one. When had that ever happened before?

"I'm not laughing at you. Well – I am, I suppose, but the shirt is very thoughtful. You didn't have to do that."

He sighed, but she could tell by the little twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth that he was pleased.

She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then quickly pulled the shirt she was wearing over her head and exchanged it for the one Booth had purchased.

"Bones, what the hell are you doing?" he stepped in front of her quickly, trying to block the view should anyone happen by.

Once the sweatshirt was on, she pulled her hair from the collar and adjusted the shirt before looking at Booth. She felt awkward and strange, uncertain of what was appropriate and what was not in these uncharted waters.

"It fits," she finally said, because she couldn't think of anything else.

He took a step closer, straightening the collar and pulling the hem down just a bit. Over the years, she'd gotten used to feeling a certain electricity when Booth touched her – a tiny charge when he lay his hand at the small of her back or brushed a piece of lint from her shoulder, lifted her chin or put his arm around her shoulders. Now, however, just seeing him seemed to set her alight in some bizarre way that she couldn't quite understand and was increasingly unable to ignore. He pulled her closer, so that they were suddenly just inches apart and she couldn't seem to stop looking into his dark eyes.

"Hey!" she heard Hodgins's voice up ahead, and the two sprang apart instantly. A moment later, he appeared on the path and looked at them curiously.

"Sorry, guys – didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to let you know we'll be in the galley. Whenever you're ready to join us."

He looked like he knew something, a slight smirk on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. She wondered if he had seen them before he'd announced his presence.

Booth nodded, and he seemed to be avoiding looking at her. "Yeah, we're on our way."

They followed behind Hodgins, Brennan careful to maintain a safe distance from her partner as they walked the path to the galley. They could hear music long before the building came into view, and Booth looked at Hodgins questioningly.

"Have we got a live band to keep us company while we work or what?"

"No – there's an awesome sound system in there, though. The dude who runs the kitchen is apparently some crazy audiophile, he's got MP3s of every song on the planet. Sweets is going nuts."

By the time they reached the entrance to the kitchen, Brennan had been infected by the beat and the residual rush of endorphins from her near-encounter with Booth. She dashed up the steps and couldn't help but smile when she found the rest of the group moving in time to the music as they tackled the seemingly insurmountable pile of dishes awaiting them.

The galley was large and professional looking, with a row of commercial, stainless steel ovens, walk-in refrigerator and freezer, and a somewhat forbidding looking old, commercial dishwasher. Tripp explained that in the past, when Outward Bound had dozens of courses and thousands of students each summer, a full staff oversaw the kitchen and students regularly ate in the adjacent dining hall. Now, as competitors offered more glamorous alternatives to the organization's no-frills wilderness adventures, they had fallen on hard times. When the galley was open, volunteers oversaw operations; otherwise, the building was regularly rented out to company retreats and teambuilding exercises.

Brennan stood in front of a massive bulletin board covered with old photos, some that looked as though they dated back to the sixties. Dirty, unshaven, laughing faces stared back at her. She found herself wondering about their histories, where they were now – what they'd learned on the island, and the direction it had taken them.

But then the floor beneath her feet was shaking, the bass vibrating her eardrums and her spine and the walls around them. Booth came over and bumped her lightly in the ass with his hip, and she couldn't help but grin.

"Come on, Bones – let's get to it. I don't wanna be here all night."

She turned from the strangers' faces without a second thought, and went to join her friends.

While Tripp sifted through the lobster carcasses for any meat that hadn't already been picked clean and Sweets took charge of the music, the rest of the group dove into the cleaning process. There was an air of celebration about the place, with frequent dance breaks, water fights, and laughter. As soon as she heard the first strains of 'Respect' come on the sound system, Angela grabbed Cam and Brennan and the three women spun and danced together in the center of the kitchen while the men continued working, pretending they weren't watching every shake and shimmy from the shapely trio.

Afterward, Brennan returned to her station out of breath and giddy from the music and excitement and, admittedly, the lack of sleep. Soon, she'd settled back into drying and putting away dishes, sandwiched between Hodgins and Booth. They had a good rhythm going, an easy air of camaraderie about the scene that made her think of her childhood, cleaning up with Russ and her parents on weeknights when she was a child.

But then the next song came on, and suddenly she wasn't thinking about camaraderie. Or family. Or anything, really. Before she even registered what the song was, her chest tightened and her hands began to shake. She quickly set down the pan she'd been drying so that she wouldn't drop it, and Booth looked at her. Her head swam, and she realized that she wasn't breathing – trying not to appear overly dramatic, she quickly excused herself and hurried outside just as Cyndi Lauper launched into the chorus of a song Brennan had loved not so long ago.

The fresh air should have helped, but it didn't seem to. Somewhere far off, she heard Booth shout for Sweets to change the song, his anger palpable. Brennan sat on the front steps, trying to concentrate on her breath, but the song kept playing in her head long after it had stopped inside the kitchen. The night came back to her, the blood on her hands and the look in Booth's eyes and the way the woman fell, the feel of the gun in Brennan's hand… And Booth, the light fading. Booth dying. Booth's blood on her hands. Brennan realized she was crying, but she was too busy trying to catch her breath to worry about her tears. She remembered the dreams she'd had when he was gone, the look in his eyes when she couldn't save him –

And then he was there. Alive. Flesh and blood, completely intact. He sat down beside her on the step, watching her intently.

"Take it easy, Bones," he said, and his voice was surprisingly soft.

She still wasn't breathing properly – it occurred to her that if she simply allowed herself to pass out, her body would naturally resume its normal respirations, but she didn't know how to make herself pass out and she was getting weak, nauseas, something heavy and dark resting on her chest and the back of her shoulders. She realized that Booth was talking to her – he touched her chin, tilted her head so she was looking him in the eye.

He seemed almost unnaturally calm, and she tried to focus on that.

"Bones – hey, it's okay. Breathe. Just watch me, okay? Like this – in through your nose, right?" He did it – inhaled slowly, and she mirrored him. "And out through your mouth." His voice was soft, the way he got sometimes when he was talking to Parker, or a witness he didn't want to frighten. He continued breathing this way a few more times and she breathed along, aware that her tears were still falling. She focused only on the sound of his voice, on restoring a normal breathing pattern.

She had no idea how long they sat like this, just breathing, before her heart slowed and her tears subsided.

"Better now?" he asked, when she was no longer gasping for air. She nodded, but didn't say anything.

"After I got back from the Gulf, I used to get panic attacks," he confessed, studying her as though they'd just shared something she wasn't certain she'd meant to share.

"They're a pain in the ass," he said shortly. "I didn't know you got them – does it happen much?"

She shook her head. After a moment's silence, she finally found her voice.

"I began getting them shortly after my parents' disappearance, and then after that I'd get them occasionally in college. They came back again last year, after – " she stopped, but it didn't seem to matter. He knew.

"After I got shot," he said.

She nodded, roughly brushing away her tears before anymore could fall. "I didn't compartmentalize very well," she admitted.

He rolled his eyes, that tic in his jaw starting to move again. If he hadn't already done it, Brennan was fairly certain he would have gone in and punched Sweets then and there.

"I never should've trusted Sweets to take care of it for me, I should've told you myself."

She actually smiled at that. "Booth, that isn't even logical - you would have risked the entire operation. You couldn't have done that – you did what made sense. There's no way you could have known Sweets wouldn't tell me."

"Doesn't mean I can't hate the way it played out."

He took a deep breath, still watching her closely. "You think you're okay now?"

She nodded.

"Everyone's just about done in there – I could walk you back to the tents. Tripp said no confab 'round the fire tonight, so you can actually get a good night's sleep."

She smiled at this. "You'll be able to do the same – no reason to squeeze another person into your sleeping bag tonight, I suppose."

He grinned, stretching and cracking his back as he stood, before he reached for her hand. When he pulled her up, he did so carefully – as though he didn't want her to break. Once she was on her feet, they stood toe to toe and she was having trouble breathing again, though now it was for very different reasons.

"Nope, guess not. Though it's kind of a shame – I mean, I'm all showered and shaved, I'd be a helluva lot better company in a one-man sleeping bag tonight."

The music was quieter in the kitchen, but still going. Brennan could hear laughter, the clatter of pots and pans, the muffled voices of her friends. Booth was so close that she could feel the heat emanating from him, his hands resting on either side of her body, his eyes intent on hers. She reminded herself to breathe, and took a step back.

"I think – do you mind if I go back alone?" she asked, realizing even as she said it what it must sound like to him. He was clearly disappointed – or hurt, which certainly hadn't been her intention. But she was exhausted, and the idea of turning Booth away at her tent door suddenly didn't seem like something she'd have the strength of will to do when the time came.

He nodded. "Yeah – of course, Bones. No problem. I'll just see you in the morning, then."

The night air was cool and salty, the smell of pine and earth and ocean thick around her. Booth started to turn away, giving her a smile that she couldn't read but that didn't seem genuine. It certainly didn't seem like her partner, suddenly cloaked and distant. She thought again of the night they'd spent together – of the sound of his heartbeat, the strength of his arms, the trust in his gaze. She swallowed past her fear, pushed past her reservations, and said,

"Booth – wait."

He turned back, and before she could rethink her actions she bridged the gap between them and kissed him, hard. For one horrible moment, he didn't respond and she thought she'd misread him – or offended him, or overstepped the strangely shifting boundaries they were just beginning to set. The moment passed quickly, however, and in the next instant she felt his arms tighten around her as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, with a passion and hunger that had been absent the night before. She opened her mouth, felt herself begin to melt and moisten when his tongue entered, sweeping along her palate, his body pressed to her.

With a supreme effort, she pulled away after another few seconds. Breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Swallowed.

"So – I'll just see you in the morning, then," she said, trying to be casual, though her voice sounded noticeably strained.

Booth smirked at her, and she flashed inexplicably on the belt buckle he wore occasionally. _Cocky. _

"Right," he said, but she was pleased to note that his voice was just as strained. "See ya in the morning, Bones."

She managed to marshal her senses enough to head down the path without stumbling and was feeling quite proud of herself when she heard Booth call after her.

"Hey Bones," he said.

She turned around, slightly annoyed to note that he was still wearing the same smirk, illuminated by the lights from the galley. She was debating whether or not to say something clever – and what, exactly, that clever thing might be – when Booth spoke again.

"The tent's are that way," he said, nodding in the opposite direction.

Brennan rolled her eyes, grateful that the darkness hid her blush. "I know where the tents are, Booth. I was merely getting some fresh air, before I return to the site," she lied. "If that's all right with you."

His smirk turned into a grin, and he just shook his head at her. "Sure, Bones. Anything you say. Just be careful – I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded again, determinedly continuing down the wrong path without looking back, just to prove her point. Once she was under the cover of the trees, she stopped walking. Stood up straight and closed her eyes, allowing herself to revel in the memory of Booth's lips for just a moment before she determinedly pushed the thought away and checked her watch. Eleven o'clock, and she still had to figure out how to get back to her site without backtracking or appearing lost. Sometimes, she just hated her partner.

TBC

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_**The final chapter will be up by next Wednesday – I promise, promise, promise not to keep people waiting this time out! But to keep me motivated, don't forget to leave a little love (and/or constructive criticism, of course) via that magic button below. Thanks for reading, gang!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_Here, at long last, is the final chapter for The War in the Woods. Between work deadlines, life deadlines, and getting one of the most horrid bouts of the stomach flu in the history of man, I'm afraid that it took a lot longer than I thought it would. I also want to apologize to all the people who've left such incredible comments and received nothing in return from me – I promise I'll write back soon, as I truly do appreciate everyone's thoughtful words and insights. It's just been a bit of a busy couple of weeks on this end. But without further ado, here is the final chapter. Hope it was worth the wait!_

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Day Eight  
Hodgins  
5 – 11a.m.

Hodgins woke the next morning and for the first time in a week didn't feel like his skin was gonna crawl off somewhere without him – that shower the night before had _definitely _been a long time coming. Booth was snoring; Sweets was babbling. And to be honest, Jack didn't really give a rat's ass – he lay there in the dark tent, and all he could think was:

_Damn, I don't want to go back._

He wondered idly if Angela might run away with him. Probably not – hell, he wasn't even sure she'd _speak_ to him once they got back to D.C., forget running away to Kuala Lumpur for the rest of their lives or something. They still hadn't talked about what was going on between them. Jack didn't want to push, and frankly for the past few days he'd been okay just following Tripp's mantra: Live in the now.

But, it was easy to live in the now when now meant mind-blowing sex with the girl of your dreams anytime you wanted, gorgeous views and good friends and no pesky outside world to contend with.

He knew he should just relax and see what happened, but every time he thought about going back to the lab and life the way it had been the past few months, it was like he had a piece of granite in his gut. Because to be honest, the past few months had really kind of… well, sucked.

Over the years, Jack had gotten used to being able to say with absolute honesty, "I love my job" to all the arrogant, pointless pricks he'd grown up with. God, there used to be days when he just couldn't wait to get to the Jeffersonian – when solving the puzzle chased him in his dreams, made him race through his off-hours just so he could get back to the work that he loved.

Lately, though, those days had been few and far between. Losing Zack had been a hell of a lot harder than he'd ever imagined it could be. And then Angela was gone, and to be honest the only reason he didn't just quit and run off to Kuala Lumpur on his own was because he knew how much Dr. B needed him. Otherwise, he knew he would've been a ghost a long time ago. Besides which, there was this little part of him lately that felt like work was getting kind of… small. He liked being outside, being physical and involved in the world around him, and lately it felt like he was getting less and less of that at the Jeffersonian.

So… yeah. The idea of going back to D.C. definitely wasn't that appealing. And yeah, it would be different if he knew he was going back to him and Ange back to their old ways, but that didn't seem all that certain. Last night on the way back from the galley, she'd ambushed him just before they got back to their tents, and asked him to meet her on the rocks once everyone was asleep. Which he did, of course, and… Well, it had been amazing. The stars were out, and the night was warm and quiet and they made love in the cove like they were the only people on the planet. In that moment, when Angela was beneath him and they were, well, kind of… joined, on some metaphysical plane that he didn't even really understand, it seemed like something happened between them. And he didn't even know what, couldn't have explained it if he'd tried, but for that moment it felt like everything had somehow been decided and it was all going to be fine.

Afterward, Angela got really quiet and still didn't say much when they got back to the camp. They kissed goodnight, and it looked like she wanted to say something but then she didn't, which kind of shot that whole fate-is-bigger-than-both-of-us vibe he'd had earlier all to hell. They hadn't even left the island yet, and suddenly it already felt like he was losing her all over again.

And now it was morning – more or less, anyway. Jack closed his eyes, debating whether or not to try and go back to sleep. The question turned out to be moot, though, because a few minutes later the cowbell was ringing and it was time to hit the trail for the final day.

When he came out of the tent, Brennan was the only one up besides Tripp and Belle. Jack hadn't told Angela about whatever it was he'd walked in on between Brennan and Booth the night before, after dinner. For one thing, he wasn't even sure that he _had _walked in on anything… And for another thing, he didn't really think it was anyone's business. When he'd realized he might be interrupting something, he'd honestly had every intention of just turning around and leaving them alone – but then Sweets was headed back down the trail, and Jack figured the last thing Booth and Brennan wanted was for the psychologist from hell to be poking his swollen nose in where it didn't belong. So, Jack gave them a heads up, and then he moved on.

He was worried that things might be awkward with Brennan now, so he made a definite attempt to keep things light. She was crouched beside a rock, staring intently at a trail of carpenter ants swarming a piece of bread when he came over, but she looked up with a distracted smile when she sensed he was there.

"You know you're not supposed to feed the wildlife, right?" he asked.

She looked at him seriously. "I dropped it – I wasn't feeding them purposely. Besides, with the island home to this many students and instructors on an ongoing basis, I'm sure the native fauna is inured to this type of interaction."

Jack smiled – just a half a smile, but a genuine one. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right. My bad," he said, not bothering to try to explain that he'd been joking.

He crouched down beside her, watching the thick-bodied, black ants make short work of the bread. "_Componotus pennyslvanicus_," he said, after they'd been silent for a few seconds.

Brennan nodded. "The black variety. I've seen a few red carpenters nearby, but they don't appear to be part of the same nest."

"There are probably fire ants out here, too – they're pretty common in the northeast. Nasty little buggers." He'd said that last part purely as a conversation piece – in reality, he didn't think they were nasty at all. Frankly, he kind of liked them. They worked hard, minded their own business, fought like hell when someone threatened their home or family. They lived, they mated, they died. Nothing nasty about that – he actually found it sort of beautiful.

Instead of acknowledging his fire ant comment, however, Brennan looked at him sideways and said,

"We weren't kissing, you know," completely out of the blue.

Okay, then. Jack blinked, trying to think of what to say. "Uh – excuse me?" he finally managed, figuring that would at least buy him more time. Maybe if he was lucky, the rest of the gang would interrupt – or, you know, a meteor would hit and strike him dead.

"When you found Booth and me last night – after dinner," she said it like this was what they'd been talking about all along, and he was an idiot for not following her.

"Booth purchased this sweatshirt for me," she gestured to the one she was wearing. "He knew I had no clean clothes, so he bought one for himself, and one for me. I was merely trying it on."

Jack nodded. "That was nice of him," he said.

She studied him for a second, like she was trying to figure out if he was being a jerk. He wasn't – he really thought it was a nice thing to do. It was the kind of thing Booth would do, which was why Jack liked the guy.

When Dr. Brennan finally seemed to realize he wasn't being an ass, she seemed to relax. "It was nice," she agreed. "But we weren't kissing," she added quickly, in case he'd forgotten where this whole conversation started.

Jack tried to figure out how to respond. If he was Angela, he would say something like, 'Sweetie, nobody said you did,' and miraculously end up having some crazy heart-to-heart for the next hour about all of Dr. Brennan's thoughts and feelings and emotional baggage. Jesus – now there was a horrible thought. So, instead of going the Angela route, he went for the Hodgins response – lowered his eyes a little, but not so much that he wasn't still looking right at Brennan.

"Dr. Brennan, it's really none of my business," he said, hoping that it sounded as sincere as he meant it to. It was true. He had a hell of a lot of respect for his boss, and he had a hell of a lot of respect for Booth. If they'd finally figured out how to be together, more power to them. He knew firsthand what it was like to fall head over heels with a whole office watching your every move, and he frankly wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Brennan was watching him with a lopsided smile, her forehead furrowed – trying to read him. He actually laughed at how intent she looked, and then shrugged.

"I'm serious, okay? You're both adults – you're both decent people. You both deserve something good – if that's what's happening, great. If not, that's okay too. But either way, _trust _me – I don't want details."

She actually smiled at this, and all it took was that smile for him to be reminded unexpectedly of just how amazing his life was. He worked for a gorgeous, genuine, decent forensic anthropologist, in one of the most prestigious institutions in the world. He had enough money to do whatever he wanted, was healthy and intelligent and reasonably good looking. He could bitch about it all he wanted, but he realized suddenly that he needed to stop taking his life for granted just because things hadn't exactly gone his way the last few months. Because even so, he lived a pretty damned sweet existence.

Cam and Angela came out of their tent then, both of them looking surprisingly well-rested. Booth and Sweets were next, already arguing about something, and Jack suddenly realized the change that had taken place in everyone over the past week. First off, everyone looked really… good. Healthy, invigorated, lean and well-muscled. But beyond that, there was a camaraderie that had been missing lately – he liked that they were getting that back. And it was even deeper than it was before, he thought, because it seemed like everyone actually got where each member of the team was coming from. There was a sort of trust that he'd never felt before, and it made him think maybe going back to the lab might not be such a terrible thing after all.

He started to stand to say good morning to Angela, but Dr. Brennan stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"So, you won't say anything to the others?" she asked, still uneasy.

He smiled and shook his head. "About what?" he said, meaning of course that it was as good as forgotten, as far as he was concerned.

Brennan just looked confused, though. "About seeing Booth and me – " she started to explain.

Jack held up his hand quickly to stop her. "Sorry – uh, yeah, Dr. Brennan. I won't say a word."

She smiled, obviously relieved. "Good. Thank you."

Tripp called to them then, announcing that it was time for the last morning round-up. Jack felt a twinge of regret – he wasn't looking forward to a day of goodbyes and "last this" and "last that." But Ange was in the circle with an empty seat beside her, and she looked his way and smiled that big-toothed, welcoming grin she got, and he figured to hell with it. So what if it was the last day? Didn't mean it couldn't be the best damned last day he'd ever had.

Around the circle, he could tell everybody was feeling that same low, uneasy endings vibe. Tripp got up and smiled at everyone, and Jack had to admit that he really did like the guy. The instructor looked around the circle, and then paused a second before he started.

"So, this is obviously our last morning. Once we get back to Wheeler Bay, we have a little ceremony we'll do there – but sometimes that can be kind of rushed, because there are more people around and everyone's in that 'Time to get out of here' mode. So, Belle and I wanted to take a few minutes now to check in with anyone. And because I know how much you guys _love _the Q&As, I thought we'd do one more question. For old time's sake."

Booth groaned, but his heart definitely wasn't in it. Brennan rolled her eyes at the FBI man, which gave Hodgins an unexpected kick – he liked the way they got each other, it was weirdly comforting.

"All right, what do you wanna know now?" Booth asked, and even though he sounded disgruntled about it, there was an unmistakable spark in his eye. And yeah, Jack definitely wanted Dr. Brennan to have her privacy and didn't want details on anyone's life, but he really couldn't help but wonder just exactly what had happened during solo.

Tripp looked at Belle, who was sitting next to Sweets. She looked up like she was surprised to be included in the conversation.

"Oh – well, we always ask the same question on the final morning: What will you take with you when you return to your homes? A lot of things have happened over the past week, and hopefully you feel differently about the others on your team and maybe about yourselves. How do you hope that will translate, once you return to your normal lives?"

She looked around the circle, obviously looking for a volunteer. Not surprisingly, nobody stepped forward – not even Sweets this time, which Jack had to admit kind of made him like the guy more.

Tripp smiled. "All right – why don't I start, and then we'll move on from there." The man cleared his throat, actually looking shy for the first time since Jack met him.

"Obviously, we do these courses all the time – different students, different lives, but the general rundown is pretty much the same. At least, for the most part. Of course, we're not usually working with quite as… headstrong a group of professionals as we've had this week."

Booth piped up. "That means we're all a pain in the ass, in instructor-speak."

Tripp laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does in a way. But, in another way it's been good – it's nice to see people who are passionate about their jobs and still passionate about each other. I've taught a lot of courses in my years, but I don't know when I've had a group that I'll remember quite as much as you guys."

"And I don't suppose Cam had anything to do with that," Angela said. Cam shot her a look that could only be described as homicidal, but Ange just rolled her pretty eyes. "What? Oh yeah – I'm sure he's gonna remember us all because Booth bitched about the food and everyone broke solo. Like _that's _never happened before."

The instructor was starting to look monumentally uncomfortable, so Jack figured he'd take pity on the guy. After what they'd put him through over the past week, Tripp had earned it.

"So… In the interest of getting this show on the road – and saving Tripp's ass – I'll go next."

Tripp did a kind of half-bow, hands together. "Thank you," he mouthed.

Jack smiled in acknowledgment, then continued. "Okay – so, what will I take with me when I go back?" He thought for a second – really, he'd just wanted to help Tripp out, but now that it was his turn he wasn't actually sure what he'd intended to say. Finally, he opted for the truth.

"I guess the major thing is just kind of remembering that there's a world outside the lab. When we're up on the platform, lost in the cases and the bodies and whatever, it's easy to believe that whatever goes on there is… everything. But coming out here with everyone has been a good reminder to me that the sun doesn't actually rise and set by the Jeffersonian. The world is bigger than that."

Angela took his hand when he was finished, leaning into him a little, and he leaned back so that their shoulders were touching. It wasn't anything big, but maybe that was why it meant so much – just that simple show of solidarity, her hand in his, and he felt his reservations about going back start to lift.

"Angela?" Tripp asked.

She raised her eyebrows – looked like a kid in school, called on by the teacher when she clearly didn't have the answer.

"Me? Um… What will I take back with me?" She took a deep breath, which Jack knew was just to buy herself time. He turned to look at her, frankly curious about what she had to say.

"I guess I'll take back less space."

Jack looked at her – looked at how close she was to him, thought about the way she'd come looking for him during solo and the way she'd held onto him the night before, and he got it. Nobody else did, of course, but he just gave her this grin and looked down, hoping his heart wasn't quite so obviously on his sleeve as it suddenly felt like.

"Yeah?" he asked, whispering.

She nodded. "I'll try," she whispered back.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan said, completely blowing the moment.

Booth gave her a look. "Yeah, but Hodgins does," he told her, with a little smile.

"So it doesn't matter that I don't," Brennan said – still trying to sort it out, waiting for Booth to walk her through the whole thing.

Booth rolled his eyes, but Jack saw the way the agent smiled at Dr. B and that was _definitely_ not frustration in his eyes.

"No, Bones. Hell, I don't know what they're talkin' about either – just as long as they know, that's what counts."

Belle cleared her throat. "Uh – what about you, Booth? What are you taking back with you?"

With a little effort, Jack was able to refocus on the group. Booth groaned.

"I don't know what the hell I'm taking back with me. I hate these questions," he griped. When no one said anything after a second, Booth finally sighed and gave in. He kept his eyes on the ground while he was talking, and Jack definitely felt for the guy – he hated this shit too, but he knew he didn't hate it nearly as much as Booth did.

"Fine – what will I take with me? Definitely a greater appreciation for the basics – hot showers, red meat, a real bed." He let out another long, exasperated sigh. "And I guess I kind of want to take back some of the outdoor stuff – I mean, being out in the woods and on the water and everything. I used to really like this stuff when I was a kid, but it's been a while since I've gotten out. I wanna start making more of an effort to take Parker out for this kind of thing, maybe take him somewhere up here this summer."

Brennan looked at him in surprise. "But I thought you missed showers and red meat."

"Well, yeah – but there's still something to be said for sleeping under the stars, living without a schedule for a few days. Parker'd really get a kick out of it, I think."

Brennan seemed to be thinking about this. She didn't say anything until finally Tripp prodded her, and she looked up like she'd completely forgotten about the conversation. After a second's thought, she still looked kind of clueless.

"I'm taking what I brought with me. Slightly less – because I obviously used some amenities along the way."

"That's not what they're askin', Bones," Booth said, rolling his eyes.

She looked annoyed. "Well, that's what it sounds like they're asking. 'What are you taking with you?' Clearly, it's a metaphor – which I understand. But, I prefer it when language is more precise."

Tripp smiled at this, nodding like he knew exactly where Brennan was coming from. Jack just shook his head – the guy had a hell of a lot more patience than he did.

"All right, Temperance – then what lessons have you learned, what insights have you gained, while you've been here? And how will you take those lessons and insights back with you?"

The clarification didn't seem to make a difference to Brennan's state of mind.

"I learned the same things Booth and Hodgins learned – that I'd like to be outside more, that the world is a large place." The way she said it, kind of rushed and impatient, made it seem like not only were those not the lessons she'd learned, she thought Jack and Booth were idiots for saying them. Booth bristled.

"Just answer the question, Bones – geez, it's not rocket science. Tell us what you learned so we can clean up and get the hell out of here."

It sounded harsh, but the way Booth said it made it clear he was just giving his partner a hard time, didn't mean anything by it. But Brennan looked at him with this flash of hurt to her eyes, before she set her jaw and looked at Tripp.

"Fine – I don't know what I learned, all right? To be honest, it feels like everything's different now, and I don't know how or why, and I don't know what impact that difference will have on my life or my work or my – " she pulled herself up short, out of breath, obviously just realizing that everyone was looking at her – including Booth, and the way the FBI man was looking at her told Jack all he needed to know about the changes Brennan was freaking out about.

Dr. B didn't look at Booth – or any of them, actually. She took a breath, and added in a rush, obviously embarrassed, "Hodgins also informed me this morning that S_olonepsis invicta_ frequent Maine islands, which I hadn't realized before. So I suppose I'll take that knowledge with me."

There was a few seconds of silence around the circle, and Jack had an uneasy feeling that Sweets was about to push Brennan to finish what she'd started to say, but the psychologist wisely kept quiet. Finally, Cam looked at Tripp with raised eyebrows.

"Right, then – maybe we should move on?"

Tripp nodded, grateful. "Uh – yeah, we should. Cam?"

Cam nodded back, all business, and Jack was grateful that someone around the circle, at least, could just say what they meant without pulling teeth or staging a mini-revolt.

"I'll take back a newfound respect for what I'm capable of – hell, it's not everyday that a girl from the Bronx voluntarily jumps off cliffs and doesn't bathe for days at a time." Everybody laughed, and then stopped when Cam continued.

"I'll also take back a better understanding of the caliber of the people I work with," Cam continued. "Aside from some petty griping and an admittedly near-pathological inability to follow directions, I've been genuinely impressed over the past week with everyone here. I already knew that I was part of a team comprised of individuals with exceptional intelligence and drive, but it's nice to be reminded that there's also more than enough compassion, humor, and spirit to go around."

Jack glanced at Angela, surprised at how choked up he was getting at Dr. Saroyan's words. He wasn't the only one, though – Ange had tears in her eyes, and after a second Booth cleared his throat.

"All right – that's great. Everybody loves everybody else, we love the woods, the woods love us. Come on, Sweets – hit me. Let's get this show on the road."

Sweets looked up. He'd been staring at the ground, sort of lost, and now it seemed to take him a second to figure out what they were talking about. Jack wondered if Booth had hit him harder than they'd thought, because the poor kid definitely seemed out of it.

"What?" He took a breath, and then he looked at Belle and kind of looked away, and Belle looked at him, and Jack couldn't even believe it. Christ, was there anybody here who _hadn't _hooked up?

"Oh – right. What will I take with me," he said, like he'd already answered this question about a dozen times on a dozen other courses before this. "Greater respect for the natural world, an increased commitment to conservation and… uh, a greater appreciation for the life I lead in D.C."

Everyone in the circle was thrown. Jack realized he'd been waiting with mixed feelings for whatever diatribe Sweets was about to launch into – waiting for the guy to tie everything together, boil the last few days down into a neat package that Jack would be able to come back to later and say, 'Okay, yeah… He was right, that's what was going on.' Because as much as Hodgins hated to admit it, more often than not that was exactly what Sweets somehow managed to do.

Not this time, though. Sweets looked antsy and more than ready to break camp and get the hell out of there. Belle looked – well, Belle actually looked kind of devastated, which made Jack really wonder what the hell was going on. From the look on Tripp's face, he was obviously wondering the same thing, but he didn't push. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked around the circle one more time.

"All right then – I think it's time for us to move on. But today, instead of our usual run and dip, we'll be going for something a little more ambitious." He turned to Belle, who apparently was supposed to pick up their pre-planned spiel from there. But Belle just looked dazed, and Tripp ran his hands through his blonde hair, looking a little freaked out, and continued.

"Right, then. Uh… For the final leg of the course, we'll be doing a triathlon. We'll work in two-man teams that I assign this morning – Angela and Jack, Seeley and Temperance, Belle and Sweets, and Cam and me." He ticked off the teams fast, clearly waiting for someone to argue the point. When no one did, Tripp took a breath like he was surprised he'd gotten this far, and continued. "You guys pack up your stuff, and Jeremy will actually truck it back to the mainland when he goes back for his food run this morning."

"So, what about this triathlon – what exactly are we supposed to be doing?" Jack asked, already not looking forward to being teamed with Angela for any kind of competition. She was amazing, and sexy as hell, and great at a lot of things. Competition definitely wasn't one of them, though.

"We'll start with a run around the island," Tripp answered. "Followed by a pretty good-sized swim out to the kayaks, which are moored at the mouth of the cove. From there, we'll all paddle back to the mainland."

"What do we get if we win?" Booth asked, clearly intrigued.

Tripp looked at Belle again. This time, Belle came to enough to stand, walk over to the tents, and pull out a hideous driftwood statue thingy with seashell eyes, bright red lips, and an Outward Bound pin for a belly button.

"You win this – Tripp and I made it the other morning, while you guys were supposed to be on solo," she glared at all of them, and Jack wasn't sure but he liked this new, disenchanted Belle. He'd never really trusted that whole Disney princess/hippie thing she'd had going on before.

"That's really… scary," Jack said. At the look on Belle's face, he hurriedly added, "You know, in a whimsical, artsy kind of way."

Jack figured he pretty much knew how the day would go from there: the rest of the crew would drive themselves into the ground trying to win the amazing race and the golem from hell, while he and Ange hung back and watched. They'd take their time because that was what Angela liked best: take in the sights, breathe in the smells, maybe take a detour or two along the way. Show up dead last half an hour after everyone else, listen to them bitch and moan about how tired they were…

Yeah, he was pretty sure that was the way the day would go.

Except that this was Angela, and God forbid she ever be that predictable.

Instead, as soon as she saw the little Outward Bound statue, she looked at Jack with this kind of shine to her eyes.

"Jack," Angela said, low and breathy, like she was telling him something meant for his ears only. "I really want that."

The way she said it – almost shy, giving up some dirty little secret she was embarrassed to have, made him melt and burn all at once, the way only she could. He gave her a cockeyed grin.

"Yeah?"

The shy smile turned into a full fledged grin back his way. "Yeah."

He nodded. "All right, then. Let's do it."

And he figured there was no way in hell, because by this time everyone else was already at the starting point with blood in their eyes. But the fact that she wanted to _try ­_– she, Angela Pearly Gates Montenegro, wanted to put in the effort and actually finish the race? Well, for some weird reason the idea gave Jack hope.

* * *

Jeremy joined the group to get the whole contest thing underway, calling out "Go!" with no starter pistol in hand, but it had pretty much the same effect on the group. It was rough going because there were eight of them on the trail, but Jack knew that getting to the water first wouldn't have any effect on the outcome of the race. Everyone else seemed to know it, too – Booth jogged backward part of the time, goading the rest of them on. Sweets was up in front, but Jack could tell he wasn't pushing himself yet – he never would've expected it, but it turned out the kid was one of those freaks of nature just born to run. He had a sort of easy grace when he was going full tilt – barely breaking a sweat, jaw set and his eyes up ahead the whole time.

Angela had gotten quicker, steadier, over the past week. He liked the fact that she laughed a lot when she moved – like just the fact of moving was enough to get her rocks off.

As for Jack, he loved it all. He'd always been a fan of wide open spaces, even as a kid. And this kind of contest, pushing himself to the limit and reveling in the pull in his muscles, the feel of granite and loose, unidentified particulates under his feet, that warming in his blood… It was a pretty heady feeling, actually.

It seemed like Cam was actually racing Tripp on the trail – which was admittedly counterproductive, but made Jack grin all the same. Brennan was totally focused, and every once in a while Booth would make some smart-ass comment – hell, the guy didn't even seem to be trying and he was still right behind Sweets – and Brennan would pretty much ignore him. At one point, though, Booth turned around with that shit-eating grin he got and said,

"C'mon, Bones – look alive here, you're slowin' me down."

Brennan didn't say a word, but she picked up the pace and burned right past the FBI man, and then the race between the two of them was on. When they got to the pier, Jack saw Booth catch his partner by the arm just before she jumped into the water – yet again, with all her clothes on – and Jack couldn't hear what they were saying, but he couldn't help but smile when Brennan grudgingly stopped and stripped down to her swimsuit before she went in.

The run wasn't long – just a mile halfway around the island, almost nothing compared to the ten miles they'd be covering in the kayaks. On the pier, Sweets actually waited for Belle, who was flushed, but still only a few paces behind her partner. Everyone left their clothes on the dock, and Jack checked to see if Angela needed any encouragement this time out. Apparently not – she shucked her shirt and shed her shorts and jumped in with a high pitched scream before she went under, then popped back to the surface with a crazed grin.

Jack followed her, but once he was in the water, his focus was on the kayaks moored a good, long way out in the water. He kept his strokes even, his breath measured – two strokes, head up on the third for a quick inhale, breathing out while he was still under. His arms felt good, strong – he cut through the water in a clean line, tasting the salt and enjoying the way it stung his eyes.

He'd always been a strong swimmer. Jack wasn't a big guy, but he had some power to him, and that counted in the water. He kept up the rhythm, the sun hot on his back and the water cold, the contrast somehow setting his body at exactly the right temperature.

When he'd almost reached the kayaks, he was surprised to find that he and Booth were in a dead heat for first place. At sight of the FBI man cutting through the water just an arm's length ahead, Jack picked things up a little. One strong kick and the two men were tied, with maybe another twenty yards to go. Jack's shoulders were actually burning now – not the smartest move with three hours of kayaking ahead of him, but he didn't care.

When he slapped the stern of one of the kayaks with the palm of his hand, he looked up to see Booth's hand hitting just an instant before. They stayed there for a second, Jack one kayak over from Booth, both of them hanging on, breathing hard, before Booth turned to him like he was surprised.

"Not bad for a squint," he said, and Jack shrugged, waiting for his heart to stop hammering through his chest.

"Hey, I almost beat you, man. Squint my ass," he responded, feeling a little dizzy, a little weightless.

Booth grinned, pulling himself into his kayak while Jack did the same.

"Horseshoes and hand grenades, Jack – that's all almost is good for. Besides, it's not over yet."

Inside the kayak, an Outward Bound t-shirt and baseball hat were waiting on his seat. Jack pulled on the t-shirt and turned to watch the rest of the group coming in. Cam was next. Jack wasn't surprised – it turned out the lady was actually one hell of an athlete. And damn, she liked to win. Tripp was close behind, and then Brennan and Angela swam in together. Belle and Sweets were last; Sweets wasn't much of a swimmer, and Belle just treaded water alongside him while they made their steady way out.

Cam and Tripp were the first ones to untie their kayaks and start moving. Angela was out of breath once she pulled herself into her seat, but she was grinning like a friggin' lunatic – the look in her eye sent a little rush through Jack, and he just rolled his eyes at himself. Jesus, he was hopeless.

"You ready to win this fucker?" she asked him.

Angela swore like a sailor, and Christ, Jack loved it. Cocksucker, dirt fucker, shit stain… He'd heard her use all of them and more, and it never failed to make him twitch a little in his shorts. She pulled on the t-shirt and baseball hat waiting for her, turned around and faced front. They set off at about the same time Booth and Brennan did, Brennan hitting the water hard with her paddle before Jack heard Booth say,

"Bones – Geez, slow down. Remember the thing I said before Gormogon? It's a long race. Pace yourself."

Jack took the words to heart. He called up ahead to Angela, and she turned and fixed him with those eyes and that smile, looking goofy as hell in her baseball hat and sopping hair.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she responded, and they were off. The sun was hot on his back, and he guessed it was maybe eleven or so. They'd be paddling through lunch, through the hottest hours of the day, through a tide change and busy inlets and lobster boat wakes.

And Jack couldn't have been happier.

* * *

Day Eight  
Angela  
11a.m. – 4p.m.

The night before, something had changed for Angela. She didn't know _what_, exactly, it was that had changed, but she did know when it happened. They'd been making love on the rocks, Jack above her – and yeah, it wasn't totally PC that she liked being on the bottom as much as she did, but sometimes it just felt… good, somehow. Like she was sort of safe, protected and possessed and enveloped. Yeah, definitely not PC. And sure, there were plenty of times when she'd ridden to a pretty mind-blowing climax on top, but every so often she liked it when her partner took the driver's seat.

So… Jack was on top. She could see the stars behind his bushy, mountain man hair, and he put his hands on her face, one hand on each cheek, and then for a second he just stopped – or maybe the universe stopped, Angela couldn't swear it wasn't that. But she could feel the pressure building, this low flutter in her stomach, and he told her he loved her like he knew saying it might lose the game. She didn't say it back, but she kissed him and they were still kissing when she came, a wave of warmth and electricity and light running through her blood.

Afterward, Jack kissed her again, long and cool and sweet, the way a tall glass of water tasted after she'd been drawing in the desert all day. And she wasn't overwhelmed, it didn't bring tears to her eyes or anything, it just felt… different. Like she'd been waiting her whole life for this instant of certainty, you know? And once it was there, she couldn't even begin to explain it, but she just knew that if she had her watercolors she could have gotten it exactly. A swirl of marigold and lilac, a bold line of emerald blue down the center. And Jack would've looked at it, and he would've gotten it – she just knew he would. He would have nodded and said,

"Yeah, I know – I felt it, too," and they would've stayed quiet and close, and that would have been enough.

But she didn't have her watercolors. She still didn't want to lose the feeling, though, so she tried to explain it to him with a kiss – that everything was okay and something had happened that she didn't have words for yet. She got quiet, and he got quiet, and by the time they got back to the camp that night she tried again, with words this time. But nothing came out right and eventually they just kissed goodnight and parted ways.

But once she was in her sleeping bag, Angela felt it again – lilac and marigold and emerald blue, that was exactly it. Certainty and magic, all swirled into one.

That was why she wanted the stupid trophy – something tangible to point to and say, 'See – the day after that moment, the day after I _knew_ (but still didn't know _what _she knew, of course), everything changed. And here's the proof.'

And so she ran, and she swam, and she pulled herself into the kayak with her muscles burning and this bizarre, unfamiliar certainty hanging suspended in her blood.

Cam and Tripp were up ahead, and Booth and Brennan were running parallel to Jack and Angela. Brennan hadn't put her t-shirt on and Booth was yelling at her about skin cancer and sunblock, until finally Angela watched with an eye roll when Brennan pulled her paddle in just long enough to throw her t-shirt on and get back to business. Booth was powerful enough to keep their kayak moving uninterrupted during that time, but once Brennan joined in they pulled out ahead of Angela and Jack.

"Easy, Ange," Jack called to her. "We've still got a lot of ground to cover."

She nodded. It wasn't actually like she expected to win – one look at Booth with those gorgeous biceps and Brennan with that crazed glint in her eye told her that was a lost cause. Plus, Cam and Tripp had apparently been built to lay waste to the world with their bodies alone, so… Yeah. No trophy, probably, but she still wanted to try. She still wanted to remember this day, to put a name to it and be able to say, 'That day, something changed. Here's why I remember.'

That was all great, of course, until she got about two hours into the race and her shoulders and back were killing her, her legs were cramped and the pain in her arms had gone from slow burn to raging wildfire. Sweat dripped down her neck, her t-shirt was soaked, and she'd long since stopped trying to make conversation.

In fact, no one really seemed to be up for talking anymore. Tripp and Cam were neck and neck with Booth and Brennan, and even Angela's favorite FBI man seemed to have run out of the energy for wisecracks. Brennan had taken her t-shirt off again and was only wearing her bathing suit – every half hour or so, Booth would make her put the paddle down and put on more sunblock, take another drink of water. And Brennan would look put out, glaring at him over her shoulder, but she'd do what he said and then get back to it.

Nobody needed to remind Angela, though – all the kayaks had been stocked with water and sunblock, and she'd gone through a good portion of both. Sweets and Belle were somewhere behind them, and Angela wondered again what was going on between the two of them. She'd seen him and Belle making out in the woods the night before, which didn't really shock her as much as she figured it would shock everyone else in the group. Honestly, she got the whole Sweets charm thing. He had this arrogance about him, and every so often when they were talking he'd give her that dead level, no bullshit look, and even Ange had to admit it kind of got her. Plus he had those lips – Angela never actually considered the thought of the two of them together, but she definitely wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Just once.

Apparently, it had also occurred to Belle. Then, this morning Sweets was definitely being monumentally weird, but it seemed like he'd mellowed out now that him and Belle were on the same team. It occurred to Angela that they'd somehow switched places with her and Jack – usually, Ange was all about taking her time, seeing the sights, telling herself that she'd get there eventually and that was just fine. She felt a little surge of resentment, at the pain in her arms and the new stupid certainty in her blood, at what she wanted to prove and the way Jack was watching her.

He was waiting for her to give up – she knew that. Knew he was waiting for the moment when she got sick of the burn of the long haul, and called it quits. Put down her paddle, picked up her sketchpad, and drifted.

Angela wiped the sweat from her eyes, resituated herself in the kayak, and dug her paddle into the water with a little more bite than before.

Not this time.

By the time Wheeler Bay was in sight, it was a three-way tie between Cam and Tripp, Booth and Brennan, and Jack and Angela. Angela had no clue how that happened – she knew Jack was paddling his sweet little ass off, and she sure as hell was doing the same, but she never thought they stood a shot against the others. Now that they were this close, though, she could almost taste that win.

Brennan was across from her in the other kayak, just a few feet away. Angela looked at her friend with a grin.

"See ya at the finish line, Sweetie."

Brennan looked surprised – maybe even hesitated a little with her paddling, though definitely not long enough to count. Booth yelled over at Angela.

"Hey! No talkin' to my partner – you'll distract her. Just keep your eyes on the road and maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you hold my driftwood when we're done."

She grinned. "In your dreams, buddy."

Which actually made Booth lose his rhythm. Brennan yelled back at him.

"Booth! You paddled on the downbeat, you have to stay in tempo."

"I don't even know what the hell that means!" he shouted back at her. "We're paddling a damned kayak, not playing Rock Band 2."

Angela started to laugh at the whole exchange, which only screwed up her own rhythm. Jack was laughing too, but he called up ahead with that forced-stern voice he used on her sometimes.

"Hey, Chuckles – do you wanna win this or what?"

She turned around to look at him at that, and the look on his face only made her laugh harder. "Chuckles? Did you just call me Chuckles?"

While all of this was going on, Tripp and Cam managed to pull ahead.

And keep pulling ahead.

So far ahead, in fact, that by the time Angela and Jack reached the landing, Tripp and Cam had already pulled their kayak ashore and were watching the rest of the group with matching, shit-eating grins.

Booth and Brennan got there a few seconds before Jack and Angela did. Booth hopped into the water and towed the kayak ashore, already whining.

"I'm just saying, it's not fair. Tripp does this kind of thing for a living – he kayaks every damn day, for crying out loud. How are we supposed to compete with that?"

Angela had finally stopped paddling, and Jack had gotten out to tow them in while she let her body go limp. She rolled her eyes, and she swore that even that took too much effort.

"Let it go, Booth," Angela said dryly. "We know who the better man is here, and it's obviously Cam."

Once the kayaks were back where they belonged, Angela found a little oasis away from everything and collapsed in the grass. She was sticky, and sore, and exhausted. And, strangely enough, incredibly proud of herself.

She'd run the race, start to finish. Didn't let up, didn't give up, didn't lose interest halfway through. Jack collapsed beside her with a grunt.

"Just kill me now, before I have to go back to the lab tomorrow with two broken rotator cuffs and heatstroke."

Cam sat down beside them. If Angela could've moved, she might have actually done some damage to the woman. Because Cam looked… great. A little flushed, but that was it – cool and calm, a sexy spark in her eye while she sipped her water and watched Tripp helping Belle and Sweets with their kayak.

"Actually," Cam said, not quite looking at them. "I thought we could use a night to recover – I booked us some rooms at the Hampton Inn in town. Our flight leaves tomorrow."

Jack's head came up at that. "You booked us a hotel?"

Cam nodded. "Yes," she said thoughtfully. "Yes, I did."

Booth flopped down next to Cam, his shirt off and his baseball hat on backwards now. "You mean, like with hot water and a real bed and room service?"

"Well," Cam responded dryly. "I don't know about the room service, but it'd be a pretty crappy hotel if it didn't have the other two."

Brennan came over next. She sat down beside Angela, a little bit apart from the group, and Angela tried to decide if the distance was there because Brennan wanted it to be, or she just felt like she didn't belong. The thought made her sad – like Brennan would always be that kid in school who never quite fit and pretended it didn't matter. Angela sat up, scooting closer to her best friend.

"Why are we talking about hotels?" Brennan asked.

"Because," Angela responded, feeling a twinge of matchmaker bringing her back to life. "Cam set up us all up with hotel rooms for the night. No roommates, no B.O., no holds barred."

Cam held up her hand. "Whoa whoa whoa – hang on there, Heidi Fleiss. I booked three rooms, which means we _all _have roommates. You can decide amongst yourselves who those roommates will be, and all I care about beyond that is that everyone's in the car and ready to go by seven o'clock tomorrow morning."

Belle came over then, looking not at all tired or flushed or disheveled. Angela was still riding high from whatever the hell she'd felt the night before, though, so she didn't have the will to hate the girl. Instead, she gave her a smile and nodded to a patch of grass.

"So, you and Sweets took your time, huh?"

The instructor actually blushed. Angela gave a little internal eye roll: if this was the way Outward Bound courses always went, she couldn't believe the place wasn't booming.

"We just decided to enjoy the trip – he's not really that into competition."

_Sure he isn't, _Angela thought to herself. She tried to figure out how old both of the instructors were, something she'd been wrestling with since the course started. When she'd first met Tripp, she honestly thought he couldn't be more than forty, maybe younger. But he'd mentioned over dinner last night that he had two kids in their twenties, so he had to be older than that – early fifties, but scarily well preserved. And Belle… Angela couldn't imagine that the girl was much older than Sweets, but it was hard to tell. She was definitely older than twenty-one, because she'd mentioned meeting someone at a bar later.

Finally, Angela gave up and tried to focus on the conversation again. Tripp had joined everyone by this time, making a way-too-obvious effort not to sit too close to Cam, who was making a way-too-obvious effort not to look like she cared. The whole group was getting a little ridiculous, and Angela was grateful that at least she and Jack weren't trying to hide anything. True, she didn't know exactly where they stood, but that was a hell of a lot better than all the sexual tension and furtive glances that had been going around the circle all week long.

Once everyone was gathered, Booth looked at his watch and stood. "So, it's just after one – how's about you guys hand over the keys to our lockers, and we'll just change clothes and grab some food and head for the hotel _now, _instead of at four. You know, wrap things up a little early."

Angela looked at him skeptically. Yeah, like that was gonna fly. But, Brennan and Jack stood at the same time, sort of dwarfing both Tripp and Belle.

"Good plan, Booth," Jack said enthusiastically. "This has definitely been a great week," he directed at Tripp, obviously thinking that maybe if he talked fast enough he could convince the instructors to abandon whatever hellish rituals they had planned for the last three hours.

Brennan nodded. "I agree. Now, if you could just assist us in retrieving our personal effects…"

Cam and Sweets both looked torn, but Angela stood without another thought. "Seriously, guys – give us back our stuff. We promise we'll come back after we're showered and changed for whatever final ceremonies circle thingy you have planned."

Unfortunately, it was apparently Angela's words that pushed Belle right over the edge. Ange hadn't missed the way the girl had gone from this chirpy, fluffy cartoon to a considerably more jaded shadow of a chirpy, fluffy cartoon over the last couple of days. Whatever Sweets had or hadn't done last night, it seemed like he'd pretty much capsized Belle's little blue kayak of sanity.

"You guys are unbelievable," she said, so quiet at first that it seemed like no one was exactly sure she was the one talking.

"You're supposed to be this incredible crime fighting team, but it turns out you have absolutely no respect for anyone's rules but your own. You don't care about law, or order, or – " her voice was rising. Angela shot a quick look at Booth, whose expression clearly said, 'Shit, we broke her.'

Cam spoke up, trying to be logical. "I'm sorry if it appears that way, Belle – I assure you, my people have the utmost respect for law and order."

"Except for Hodgins," Booth and Brennan said at the same time.

Jack looked sheepish. "Laws are merely arbitrary constructs designed to keep the soci-economic infrastructure in place and prevent society from functioning according to its own innate moral compass," he said, and Angela knew him well enough to know that not only did he understand what the hell he'd just said, he had sixteen books backing up the theory. He looked at Angela, obviously trying to shift some of the blame.

"Anyway, Angela sucks at rules, too."

Angela quirked an eyebrow at him. Nothing like being thrown under the bus by the man of your dreams.

"Sorry," she said with a shrug. "I'm an artist."

"Yeah, well – those two aside, the rest of us are all about law and order," Booth assured her.

Unfortunately, now that Belle had blown a gasket she didn't seem likely to stop anytime soon.

"What about your other friend? The one in prison for eating people."

Sweets looked up at that, appearing frankly unnerved by Belle's little breakdown. "He's not in prison – he's in an institution."

"And he never actually ate anyone," Brennan added.

Belle looked slightly relieved to hear this, but it didn't stop her from continuing. "You guys have no interest in anyone but yourselves, though – you barely apologized after you worried Tripp and me half to death during solo."

Cam started to say something about that, but she shut her mouth at a look from Tripp. _Hmm_, Angela thought. Now that was interesting.

"Actually," Tripp said, looking uncomfortable. "I wasn't really that worried."

Belle looked at him like he'd just stabbed her in the back. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Cam answered smoothly. Okay, _very _interesting. "I'm sure Tripp just means that he knew we were all capable of taking care of ourselves, so there was no real cause for concern."

Belle looked satisfied with that, nodding her head. She was obviously starting to lose steam, which was good – it had gotten mighty uncomfortable around the circle.

Tripp stood and put his arm around Belle's shoulders. "Listen, I think you guys maybe are right – why don't you go to the lockers and tell Steph I told you it was okay to get your stuff." He handed Cam a set of keys. "There's food in the logistics building over there," he nodded vaguely toward the offices. "And you can get hosed down in the sun showers around back. Just meet back here at three, and we'll do closing ceremonies then."

He led Belle away, and the rest of the group stood around for a second of shocked silence before Angela looked at Sweets accusingly.

"Nice, Sweets – what'd you do to her?"

His eyes widened. "Me? Nothing! You guys were the ones who kept challenging everything and making fun of the circle – Belle takes this very seriously."

"A little too seriously, if you ask me," Brennan said dryly.

Booth rubbed his hands together, walking backward while he headed for the lockers.

"Yeah yeah yeah – if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the sun. You ask me, most of these types are wound way too tight and just waitin' to go postal. Now, I'm going to get my stuff – who's with me?"

Pretty much everyone, it turned out.

* * *

Angela took a quick, cold shower, changed into the clean clothes waiting in her locker, and took a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and her sketchpad to the nearest vacant tree. She was grateful that Jack could read her well enough to leave her alone at times like this, though she knew he liked watching her work. That had bothered her with other guys, but for some reason she kind of liked it with Jack.

She pulled out the sketch of Brennan she'd been working on the other day, closing her eyes for just a second to get the picture back in her head. Over the years, Angela had done plenty of sketches from models or photographs – it was nice, because she'd have something to continuously refer to while she was sketching, to make sure every line and shadow was exact. But, she honestly preferred working from memory. When she did, her mind tended to kind of bleed her impressions onto the canvas… It was hard to explain, but those pieces drawn from memory were definitely the ones that said the most about who someone really _was, _instead of just what they looked like.

After a while, the shadows around the grounds started to change as the sun sank lower in the sky. Angela didn't have a watch – honestly, she just ended up losing them – but soon enough, she sensed someone nearby. She looked up to find Booth standing behind her, watching over her shoulder. She put the pad down and looked up at him.

"Hey, you. Time to go?"

He made a face. "Yeah – time for the last round-up."

She knew that if he'd been talking to Jack, he probably would have used 'circle jerk' or something instead of round-up, and for some reason Angela really liked that he hadn't. Clearly, Booth had his foibles, but Angela had always been big on a man who knew how to be a gentleman – and Booth was nothing if not a gentleman.

He looked at her kind of shyly, and it took her a second or two to figure out why. Once she had, she nodded toward the sketch on her lap, feeling that same old awkwardness she always felt when someone saw her work.

"I started this the other day – Brennan had that kind of dreamy look she gets sometimes, looking out at the ocean. I thought it'd be fun to try and catch it."

Booth crouched beside her, a little smile on his lips that Angela knew had nothing to do with her. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked politely.

Angela handed him the drawing. Honest to god, even though she'd never go there in a million years because of Brennan, there were still moments when she could just eat Seeley Booth with a spoon.

He studied the drawing, shaking his head. "Wow. I mean, I'll admit, some of the stuff you do I kind of… don't get." He looked up, rushing in in case he'd said something wrong. "I mean, I know it's all really good, it's just sometimes a little over my head. But this…" he looked at it again. "That's Bones, you know? You got the way her jaw kind of tilts up when she's thinking, and that thing she does with her lip…" he looked embarrassed, handing it back to her like he realized he'd said too much.

"It just really looks like her, that's all." He shook his head. "I don't know why you're not in New York making a million bucks right now."

Angela put her sketchpad away, took Booth's hand when he offered it, and stood. She kissed him on the cheek, and he kind of blushed. Oh yeah, she could definitely just eat him up.

"Thank you, Seeley," she said sweetly.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on – we better get back before Belle has another meltdown."

* * *

Belle actually looked a lot better once they got back – everyone did, as a matter of fact. They'd all changed back into their normal clothes: jeans and t-shirts, cell phones and – in Booth's case – the unmistakable outline of a gun, underneath his jacket.

They'd all gathered off to the side of the grounds, in a circle with that hideous Outward Bound statue Angela had _so _wanted at the center. Beside the statue, there were a neat stack of tiny wooden boxes. Once Angela and Booth joined the circle, Tripp and Belle took the center. Tripp gave them all a grin, and Ange could definitely see why Cam was so obviously into him – besides being one hell of a hunk of man, he had a little bit of a spark to him that Angela imagined meant there was a lot more to him than met the eye.

"So, I know everyone's anxious to be on their way, but we didn't want to leave here without acknowledging who you each are, and maybe providing some perspective as to what each individual adds to your… um, unique group dynamic."

He picked up the Outward Bound statue and handed it to Cam. Angela couldn't help but grin when she saw him wink at her boss.

"Dr. Saroyan – we'll start with this, of course, which you clearly earned."

Booth coughed "Ringer" into his hand, which made the whole group – except Brennan, who was obviously clueless – laugh. Cam just rolled her eyes.

"Hey, we won fair and square. If you guys hadn't been too caught up in your usual squabbling and barely subverted sexual frustration, maybe you could've stayed focused long enough to actually come in first."

Which drew another laugh, though Brennan actually started to say something before she just shut her mouth and blushed.

Belle picked up one of the boxes then, and everyone got quiet. She went to Sweets and handed him the box, with a cute little smile that made Angela forgive the girl for every crappy initiative they'd been forced to suffer through over the past week.

"These are fetishes that an old man from the Penobscot tribe carves on one of the islands up the coast – small figures meant to embody the spirit of certain animals held sacred by the tribe. Each animal has certain qualities that make it unique – we've chosen each of these because Tripp and I believe you each possess these characteristics."

Okay, yeah, it was corny, but Angela still felt a little chill run up her spine. She sat quietly, looking over to see Brennan sit up straighter, obviously interested in the artifacts Belle was about to hand out.

Sweets opened his box and withdrew a tiny, beautifully rendered… Angela leaned over to look at it more closely.

"Uh – is that a goose?"

Everyone but Sweets and Brennan laughed, until Belle gave them a look that said pretty clearly, 'Shut up or die.'

"In Native American culture," Brennan interrupted seriously, "The goose represents persistence and ambition – they're viewed as highly social, and adept at working within an infrastructure to achieve their goals." She nodded approvingly. "I think that's very fitting – well chosen."

Tripp took the next box and handed it to Cam. She opened it and, for the first time that week, actually got tears in her eyes as she held up a small, regal looking bird in flight.

"The falcon," Tripp said softly. For a second, Angela almost felt bad about being there to see what was clearly a personal moment. "It represents leadership, level-headedness, equanimity in the face of conflict. In Native American lore, the falcon is regarded as the one whose decisions hold weight above all others."

Cam gave a little smile, laughing as she brushed her tears away in embarrassment. "Thank you, both. This whole week has been… well, surprising doesn't really seem to cover it."

Brennan was next. When she opened the box, Angela, got all choked up when she saw the tears in her friend's eyes.

"Thank you," Brennan said quietly, as she withdrew a tiny owl from the box.

"Do you know what it represents, Dr. Brennan?" Belle asked quietly.

Brennan rubbed her eyes and nodded, still studying the owl thoughtfully. "The owl is held as the keeper of knowledge, the inquisitor, the one for whom learning is a sacred practice."

Booth kind of nodded at that, giving an approving smile to the instructors. "Nice – good work, guys. So far, no complaints."

Jack was next. He opened up a box and held up a little figure Angela couldn't quite make out. "Uh… Thanks, I guess."

Tripp laughed. "It's a beaver. The beaver represents perseverance and an ability to stay on task. They're strategic, cunning, and witty – they are also regarded as compassionate, generous, and deeply loyal to their loved ones." Jack got a quiet, sort of moved look about him. Angela leaned in to look at the animal more closely, and he gave her a smile, shyly bumping his shoulder against hers.

Which made it Angela's turn. She opened up the box and couldn't hold back a little laugh at the sweet, playful looking otter staring up at her.

"The otter is the heart – the spirit, the spark, the creature that reminds us that life is nothing without play. In old Native American stories, the otter is often the ultimate savior, the one who saves everyone in some whimsical, unconventional way," Belle told her.

Angela traced the fine details with her index finger, imagining the man who'd carved this – the time he'd taken, the years he'd been working at his craft. She looked at Tripp and Belle and it was everything she could do to hold it together when she said,

"Thank you, guys. This is… This really means a lot."

Jack put his arm around her and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder while Belle handed Booth the last box. He opened it and got this sweet, bashful look as he pulled out a wolf, standing with his head raised, eyes on the horizon.

Tripp looked over at Brennan. "Would you do the honors, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan nodded. When she spoke it was only to Booth, a smile that Angela knew for a fact she'd never seen before, on her friend's face.

"Traditionally, the wolf represents the great protector. In a fight, he won't hesitate to lay down his life for those he loves, for the other members of his pack. A gentle father, passionate lover, and loyal friend, it's generally agreed that the wolf is the most revered symbol in Native American myth."

Booth studied the figure in his hand, lifting his eyes for a second to meet Brennan's gaze before he swallowed and looked down again. He nodded to Tripp and Belle seriously.

"Thanks. I mean, I don't know how much I deserve it, but… thank you. It means a lot."

Once the little boxes were distributed and they'd each had their moment, Angela couldn't help it – she'd loved the whole week, and couldn't think of a nicer way to finish things out, but she realized suddenly that she was _definitely _ready to go. She knew she couldn't handle another big talk about thoughts or feelings or childhood trauma, so she just sat there with her head on Jack's shoulder and waited. It was four o'clock, and she was ready to go home.

* * *

Day Eight  
Booth  
4p.m. – 11p.m.

It wasn't that Booth didn't appreciate the whole thing – the ceremony and the wolf and the meaning behind it, because he definitely did. And yeah, he'd had a pretty great time in the kayak with Bones, watching the way she pushed herself, frankly a little turned on by the way she set her jaw and that little ripple of muscle in her back and shoulders as she paddled.

In fact, he definitely appreciated all of it - every minute. It was just that he'd been doing a lot of thinking over the last day or so, and the thing he was thinking about the most? Okay – the thing he was thinking about the most was Bones, and the way she'd kind of tackled and kissed the hell out of him the night before – the way she tasted, the way she felt, the way he'd leapt to attention like he was a sixteen-year-old kid again… Yeah, he'd been thinking a lot about that.

Coming in at a close second, though, was Parker.

Which he guessed was probably silly, since Booth had only been away from his kid for a week. But he couldn't help it – he really _liked _Parker. Missed the hell out of him when they were apart, and had a blast when they were together. And this week, he couldn't help but think that Parker would've had a great time out here. Obviously, Booth was glad Parker wasn't around for _everything_ – he was a good father, but he was no saint. Still, the kayaking, the swimming, the campfires? Parker really would've loved that stuff.

So, by the time they finished handing out little wooden animals and talking for the thousandth time that week about their feelings, Booth was ready to get moving. Finally, after all the animals were handed out and Tripp finished his hundredth heartfelt spiel, Cam rolled her eyes in Booth's direction. He realized that he was tapping his foot, his knee going fast and his hands doing that keyed up drumming thing they did sometimes when he was anxious.

"Okay, you have to stop that. Seriously." She gave Booth her best, no bullshit, eyebrows raised, I'll-kill-you-now look of steel, and he gave her a bit of a flirty grin. It was just Cam, but he figured there'd always be a little bit of that left between them. She turned to the instructor seriously. "Tripp, you're gonna have to cut this thing short before Seeley has a stroke. Or I brain him."

Tripp nodded and smiled. "Got it. All right then, you guys – be well. Be safe. Be kind. And… I'll see you tonight at Billy's."

Booth shook his head, still not quite able to believe that he'd survived a week in the woods with a bunch of granola and hippies, only to have been informed by Cam that now he was gonna have to spend a night out on the town with the very same hippies. But at least there'd be no granola this time out.

As he was cutting out to grab his cell phone, Bones called after him.

"Say hi to Parker for me," she said, and he turned and smiled at her.

"You got it, Bones."

As he was walking away, he thought about what it would be like to be back in D.C. with his partner. They'd kissed – twice now. Him and Bones. He had no idea how Bones felt about it, but based on her outburst around the circle this morning, she was obviously thinking about it. And worried – that much was clear, which worried _him,_ because if there was ever a time for her to freak out, this would be it. Hell, she'd practically sent him packing when all they did was hug at Jack and Angela's almost-wedding, and then she gave him the cold shoulder for a whole day after they got too close around the campfire the other night.

He had to push all those thoughts out of his head then and there, he decided, because there was no way he was gonna figure it all out at the moment. Instead, he wandered around for a few minutes until he found a spot with semi-decent reception, and hit number one on his speed dial.

Rebecca answered. Booth smiled, actually glad to hear her voice. Whatever had and hadn't happened between them – and seriously, there was a _lot _of water under that bridge – she was responsible for pretty much the best thing that had ever happened to him. For that reason alone, Rebecca would always be an important part of his life.

"Back from the camping trip from hell?" she asked.

She must've seen his number on the caller ID – he liked that she didn't bother with 'Hello' or 'How are you,' just got to the nitty-gritty. He realized it was something she had in common with Bones, and the thought made him smile.

"It wasn't so bad," he said.

"Oh, really?" Bec said, like he'd just said something big. "I thought you were being dragged out there against your will and you'd rather dance naked – "

"Yeah yeah yeah," he interrupted. "I remember. Nah, it was fine – you know, whatever. No big deal." He stopped, because he had no idea where to start or what to say without spilling the Bones thing. Rebecca could read him like a friggin' book, and no way was he ready for that. So, he decided dodging the conversation completely was his best bet.

"Listen, I'm not sure how long I'm gonna get a signal – I'll tell you all the bloody details when I get back, I swear. Is Parker around?"

"Hang on – he's outside with some friends. I'll go get him."

"Nah, that's okay – " Booth started to say, though he was definitely disappointed. Rebecca laughed.

"Are you kidding? He's been waiting all day to talk to you – if he found out you called and I didn't get him, I'd be in the doghouse for a week."

Booth felt a little rush of pride, along with a hefty-sized lump in his throat. He swallowed around it and managed, "Okay then – go get him," without sounding too bad, and he shook his head at what a sap he was. He could do dead bodies and psychotic killers and everything in between, but Parker could make him crumble in a second – always could. It was definitely one of the biggest surprises he'd gotten when he became a father: how everything he thought he understood about who he was and what he was capable of, just changed overnight.

A minute later, Parker himself was on the line – a little out of breath, but definitely happy to hear from his old man.

"Dad? Are you still in Maine?"

Booth grinned. "Yeah, buddy – I'm still here. Tired and sunburned and _hungry _– man am I hungry. I could go for one of those burgers over at Ella's."

"I went over there the other night with Chris and his mom," Parker told him excitedly. "Chris couldn't even finish one burger, and when I told him that one time you ate _four _he said he didn't believe me. Do you think you could take Chris and me there when you get home, and eat four burgers so he knows I wasn't making it up?"

Booth laughed outright. "Yeah, Parks – heck, as hungry as I am now, I bet I could eat five of 'em. So, how's your week been otherwise? You been good for your Mom?"

"Yeah, Dad, of course," Parker told him, and Booth could almost see the eye roll.

"No holding up liquor stores or robbing banks while I was gone, right?" Booth prodded, until Parker giggled.

"No, Dad. You're so weird."

Parker faded out for a second, so Booth hurried to wrap things up.

"Listen, buddy, I'm gonna have to go before I lose reception – not a lot of cell phone towers out here in the boonies. But I just wanted to check in and let you know I missed you this week. We on for ice cream Wednesday night?"

"Definitely!" Parker said, and there was no mistaking the enthusiasm in his voice.

"You know I love you, right buddy?" Booth asked, making an effort to keep his voice light.

"I love you too, Dad. See ya Wednesday."

Booth snapped his phone shut and stood still for a second, just thinking about his life. Every so often he did this – thought about what he'd seen and where he was now, about the fact that he had a healthy, bright, happy kid and a job that he liked and a partner that he… well, whatever. He didn't like to get sappy about the whole thing, but he also didn't want to take any of it for granted. He looked over at the group, still hanging out in the grass together. Bones was talking to Angela about something – the two women's heads sort of bowed together, laughing, and for some reason just that sight kind of got him. He really loved to see Bones laugh, loved the casual, easy way the women had together.

It was warm out, the sun shining, a breeze coming off the water. He was healthy, he was happy, he was strong. Not really caring if anyone was watching, he kind of closed his eyes and did a quick, silent 'Thank you' to the man upstairs – just because it seemed like the moment called for it. It wasn't like he made a big production of the whole thing, but sometimes it just seemed like a little gratitude was in order. Afterward, he put his cell phone back in his pocket, shook off all the deep thoughts, and called to the others.

"Hey," he yelled, moving fast, clapping his hands once to get everyone's attention. "All right, are we ready to get outta here or what? We've got three hours before Tripp here's comin' to take us out on the town, and I plan on spending at least two and a half of those asleep in a real bed. Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

The hotel was right on Route One headed out of town – not much of a view, but Tripp said the best ice cream on the planet was right across the road, and there was a movie theatre next door. Not that it really mattered to Booth – honestly, all he wanted was to take the longest, hottest shower known to man, strip down to his jockeys, and crawl between crisp, clean sheets. And he didn't plan on letting the fact that he was sharing a room with Sweets keep him from that plan. Jack and Angela had claimed one of the rooms for themselves, which meant Booth either had to find a legitimate reason why he should be rooming with Bones, or had to shut up and deal with spending the night with Sweets. Now, he was starting to doubt his decision.

As soon as they checked in, Booth called first dibs on the bathroom. Sweets griped a little, but he must've caught the look in Booth's eye because a second later, he just shut up and crashed out on his bed with a book. Which meant Booth was alone, more or less. He closed the bathroom door and put the shower on high, took his time on the pot after being forced to dig holes in the woods for the past week, and finally stripped down and got into the shower.

God, it felt good. There was great water pressure, so he let the spray rain down hard between his shoulder blades, running down his back and over his ass and just generally hitting all the spots that ached from a week of running himself ragged. He kind of took stock of himself, realizing that he'd probably dropped a couple pounds around his middle, but he felt good – strong, healthy, kind of clear about stuff. Okay, not _totally _clear, but he thought maybe he was getting there.

The problem, of course, was whether or not Bones was clear. Based on the conversation around the circle that morning, he was thinking she probably wasn't – which meant it was on his shoulders to steer her in the right direction. Except he wasn't really sure what the right direction might be – he just knew he liked spending time with her. Felt like he could tell her just about anything, and that was really saying something for him. And now that they'd introduced this new aspect of the relationship, he didn't really know any better than she did how it would affect them.

He closed his eyes, deciding that he just wouldn't think about it for a while. But of course that only made him think about it more, and before he knew it he was remembering the way she felt pressed against him, that thing she'd done with her tongue last night and the curve of her thigh when they were in the sleeping bag the night before that… He groaned in frustration, pushing the images to the very back of his brain. Turned the water from hot to cold, finished rinsing off, and got out.

Afterward, he decided he was officially ready to pass out for the next forty-eight hours. He managed to climb out of the shower, dry himself off, pull on a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and stumble into the next room. Sweets was already in the bed closest to the air conditioner, sound asleep. Booth felt another twinge of regret when he saw how young the psychologist looked, laying there with black eyes and his nose still too swollen to breathe through.

Booth sat at the end of the other bed and turned the TV on low. He went straight for ESPN, reading the crawl at the bottom of the screen to get caught up on the games he'd missed. Sweets mumbled something, kind of snorted, and then jolted awake – Booth looked over at him, waiting to see if the kid was really up.

"What time is it?" Sweets asked, which Booth knew by now didn't mean he was actually awake.

"Almost five. Are you up, or are you dreaming?"

Sweets sat up, ran a hand through his hair. "No, I'm up. Did anybody call?"

Booth just looked at him. "What am I, your secretary? How the hell should I know – I was in the shower." He paused. "Why, are you expecting someone to call?"

The younger man looked embarrassed. "Well – not exactly. I mean, it's possible. They both said they might, and I have tentative plans this evening so…"

Booth's head was starting to throb, and that bed was definitely calling his name.

"Sweets, what the hell are you talkin' about?"

Sweets started to answer, but Booth held up his hand. "Hang on – " He stood, kind of hobbled to his bed, and climbed under the covers. "Okay, go," he told Sweets. "Talk as long as you want, just don't expect me to talk back."

So, Sweets dove into all his girl troubles, going on and on about how nuts he was about Daisy, but how Daisy was just plain nuts and wouldn't he be a healthier guy if he went for Belle and dropped Daisy. He stopped talking at that point, and Booth had that heavy, drugged feeling that meant he was about to pass out.

He'd just gotten to sleep when the room phone rang, jolting him completely awake.

Apparently, it was Belle.

Booth lay there and listened to Sweets babble to her about the course and a bunch of bands Booth had never heard of and then analyze everyone in their group – carefully avoiding any mention of Booth or Bones. It took only about sixty seconds for Booth to decide he was officially in hell.

"Why can't you use your cell for this?" he growled. Sweets put his hand over the phone.

"I forgot to charge it while we were gone – is this bothering you?"

"No, Sweets," Booth said, shooting a glare at the kid. "There's nothing I'd rather have as background noise for my nap than you and your girlfriend babbling about – "

Sweets got the picture.

"Uh – Belle? Listen, maybe we should just talk later, at the bar. Yeah, Booth is trying to sleep." There was a pause before Sweets said, "Oh – uh, really? Sure. I mean – yeah, I guess that would be okay. I'll see you in half an hour."

He hung up the phone. Booth breathed a sigh of relief, ready to get back to some quality power napping.

"Oh God," he heard Sweets say.

Oh God was right. Booth rolled over and opened one eye, determined not to encourage Sweets by asking him what was wrong. The psychologist was sitting on the edge of his bed with a sort of shell shocked look on his face, rocking just a little.

"This is not good," Sweets said, and Booth had the feeling he wasn't actually talking to anyone. Booth closed his eyes again, determined not to take the bait.

"This is definitely very, very not good," Sweets said.

He got up, and Booth opened one eye again and watched the kid pace the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, the floor creaking on every fourth step until finally Booth sat bolt upright, his eyebrows climbing his forehead.

"What the hell's the problem, Sweets? So you go out with Belle – you have a drink. You talk, have a good time – and then you get on the plane tomorrow and by tomorrow night you and Daisy are making sweet geek love and everything's peachy again. The thing with Belle's not gonna happen, get over it."

Sweets hesitated just a second before he blurted out, "But you don't understand – the thing with Belle already happened. It's out there. I'm officially a cheater – _me. _And there's no taking it back, and I know I don't want to lose Daisy but I can hardly just dismiss Belle after what happened, because that would make me more of a jerk than I already am."

Okay, that was definitely not what Booth was expecting. "You slept with Belle?"

Sweets looked at him in horror. "What? No – of course not. Unlike the rest of you, I have some control over my baser desires. And I have a girlfriend."

"Well then what the hell are you bitching about, Sweets?" Booth demanded, aware that his voice was definitely rising.

Sweets sighed. Long and slow and painful, and Booth might have felt for the guy if he hadn't already had his fill of Lance Sweets about three days ago.

"We kissed. _I_ kissed her – and not just a peck on the cheek, either." He was pacing the room again. Booth took a breath, realizing that his nap window was closing fast. "A kiss is a uniquely intimate expression of one's feelings, and I just laid it out there. And now I'm going to see her again, and who knows what I'll do when we're alone with no danger of being discovered."

Booth shook his head. "This is about a kiss?"

"It wasn't just a kiss, all right? It was a good kiss. A great kiss. And I _know _I love Daisy – I mean, I'm pretty sure I do. Or I at least am very fond of her, and I could definitely see the relationship going further. And yet, here I am in Maine kissing some other woman and not only enjoying it, but hoping that it will happen again."

Booth massaged his temples, but it did almost nothing to ease the pain in his head. Great. He closed his eyes, sat up in bed, and found himself thinking again of Bones. And, more specifically, kissing Bones - how unexpected it had been in some ways, but how in others it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Which brought him back to the conversation around the circle that morning, and the way Bones had looked when she'd said that she didn't know what she was taking back or how it would change things.

They'd done okay all day long, working together and joking around and generally being the partners they'd always been, but he hadn't actually said word one about what it would be like when they got back to D.C. He knew Bones – knew how amazing she was on just about every playing field, but this was one area where she really relied on him. There was no question in Booth's mind that she was waiting for him to give her a clue about how he was feeling and what should happen next, and he realized suddenly that he'd completely dropped the ball on that. Hell, she'd probably already overthought the whole thing all to hell and decided they should go back to the same old thing once they got back to D.C. And all of a sudden he realized that, as it turned out, he didn't want that at all.

He stood, realizing that Sweets was still babbling at him. Booth took another deep breath, and looked at the kid.

"You're twenty-two, right?" he asked.

Sweets nodded.

"Right. Look, I don't know if you're in love with Daisy. I don't even know if you're in love with Belle. I do know that you're a jackass to go around kissing someone when you've got a girlfriend – but it happens, right? Call Daisy. For God's sake, don't tell her about the kiss – just talk to her. Once you do, I'm pretty sure you'll know whether you really wanna spend the afternoon alone with Belle."

He was getting dressed while he was saying all this, checking his reflection in the mirror after he'd pulled on jeans and a jacket and put his wallet in his back pocket. Sweets looked at him in surprise.

"Wait, where are you going? I thought you wanted to rest."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well – I can rest when I'm dead. I've gotta take care of something."

Sweets looked at him funny, like he knew something was up but, strangely enough, was too smart to actually ask questions. Maybe he'd learned something this week after all. Booth was already out the door and halfway down the hall before he realized that he didn't have a clue what the hell he was going to say. Still, he kept going – this was Bones, after all. He'd figure it out once he got there, but he didn't want to risk giving her anymore time to talk herself out of this than he already had.

* * *

On the way to Bones's room, Booth stopped a cleaning lady in the hallway. The woman was pushing a cart overloaded with cleaning supplies and plastic bags of dirty laundry; she was tall and too thin, had the yellow skin and wrinkled mouth of a longtime smoker. He thought of a saying his old man used to use: rode hard and put away wet. He'd never much cared for the saying, but he could see how it might fit in this case.

"Excuse me," he said. She looked up, and he kind of smiled when her hand went to her hair, straightening a little where she stood when she saw him. _You still got it, Seeley, _he thought with some relief. He could definitely use a little confidence boost before having whatever talk he was about to have with Bones.

"You need fresh towels?" the woman asked, and Booth shook his head.

"No – no thanks, the room's great. I just wondered if you could tell me a quiet spot around here to take someone."

Her face sort of fell. "Oh – you mean like a romantic spot?"

He thought about this for a second. Was that what he meant? It seemed like way too much trouble to explain all the crazy details of his relationship with Bones, so he just nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so. Just somewhere to talk," he added, in case she was getting the wrong idea.

The woman nodded, like this was all the information she needed. "Lighthouse, breakwater, or Children's Chapel. Lighthouse and breakwater are closer – this time of afternoon, the lighthouse'll be less crowded. You know, just in case the talking gets old and you wanna do something else." She winked at him, and he rolled his eyes.

"Right. Thanks. And where do I find the lighthouse?"

She gave him directions he was hoping he'd remember once they were on the road, and a minute later he was back on his way to Bones's room. He got more nervous the closer he got – which was just dumb, he kept telling himself. This was Bones – _Bones, _for crying out loud. He knew her inside-out. She was his best friend, his partner, someone who'd proven more than once that she'd be there when things got tough. So they'd kissed a couple of times – was that really such a big deal? So maybe things between them were about to change, in ways he had a hard time picturing and was maybe terrified to admit…

Okay, this definitely wasn't helping.

He reached her door, and just stood there for a minute or two. He thought again of the advice he'd given Sweets – how he'd told her to just call Daisy and talk to her, and he'd probably have the answer from there. After a little more agonizing, he finally decided to take his own advice. He took a deep breath or two, and knocked on the door.

Bones answered the door with her hair still wet, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe. She kind of blinked at him when she opened the door, like he was the last person on the planet she'd expected to see.

"Booth. I – I thought you were going to rest before Tripp picks us up tonight."

He nodded, trying not to look too floored by how good she looked. Her robe was open at the throat, and there was a drop of water on her collarbone and it occurred to him completely out of the blue that he suddenly really, really wanted to taste that water.

Okay, now that _definitely _wasn't helping.

"Yeah, well – Sweets had other ideas. Where's Cam?"

They were standing at the door, Booth still outside the room and Bones still in. She looked at him blankly for a second, like she'd forgotten she had a roommate.

"She went with Tripp. Did you – um, did you want to come in?"

She moved out of the way a little, and Booth took one look inside the room with the big, empty beds and Bones standing there with probably not a stitch on under that robe and he just swallowed. Hard. And shook his head.

"Uh – no. No, definitely not." He didn't miss the look that crossed her face, that little flash of first confusion and then hurt. _Get it together, Seeley, _he ordered himself.

"I was actually hoping maybe we could go for a ride. Have a little time just the two of us, before the whole gang's back together tonight."

She gave him that skeptical Bones look he knew so well. "Where is everyone else? We can't just take the only mode of transportation and leave them."

He grinned, comfortable now that we were back in familiar territory. He put something out there, Bones shot it down, he kept at her until she gave in. Now this, he could do. "Sure we can – my keys, my call. I'm sure Jack and Angela are busy doing somethin' I don't really want to think about, God only knows when Tripp and Cam are coming back, and Sweets has his own problems. Come on, Bones… We've got less than twenty-four hours before you're buried back at the Jeffersonian again – let's check out the sights."

He half expected her to come up with some lame excuse about catching up on e-mails or something, so he was surprised when she actually nodded without arguing more.

"All right – just let me change."

Before they left, they got ice cream from the place across the street that Tripp had recommended. It was a little white shack with a line all the way to the road, but Booth figured good ice cream was worth the wait. Bones wore a sarong that had just about knocked him on his ass when she came out of the bathroom in the hotel – it was a pretty African print that hugged her body in all the right ways, and standing in line Booth didn't miss the fact that just about every guy in the place had their eye on his partner.

He stepped a little closer, resting his hand on that spot at the small of her back that – up until a few days ago – had been one of the few places he was allowed to touch in their day-to-day lives. This time, though, the contact sent a charge of electricity right up his spine (and, let's face it, to a few other places he was trying not to think about). It took more than a little effort to stay focused on choosing an ice cream flavor from the board in the window instead of just turning around and taking Bones where she stood.

But, he managed it. Bones ordered a bowl of ginger ice cream, which Booth gave her shit about because it wasn't a real ice cream flavor; Booth ordered peppermint stick in a waffle cone, which he insisted was not only a _real_ ice cream flavor, but was the _best_ ice cream flavor. He was surprised at how it didn't seem awkward between them at all, given the conversation they were about to have. Bones had been a little weird when they first got in the car, but she seemed to calm down once she realized he was the same old Booth. Or, at least he was trying like hell to be.

Once they were in the car, he thought the ice cream would be a good idea because they could just eat if he couldn't think of anything to say. But, it turned out they had plenty to talk about: what was going on between Tripp and Cam, whether Sweets should stay with Daisy, if Bones should buy a summer place in the area. They talked about the weather, about how they both missed not being on the water, Bones talked about a couple cases she was looking forward to getting back to…

It kind of blew Booth's mind actually, that they would've just spent the past eight days without more than a few hours apart each day, and still have this much to say. He liked the way she used her hands when she talked, the way her blue eyes sparkled when she laughed, how she turned her body toward him when he was saying something… He almost went off the road when she kind of moaned when she took the first bite of ice cream, a low, throaty sound that he suddenly really, really wanted to hear again. Only next time, he wanted to be the reason she was making it.

"That good, huh?" he grinned, and she actually blushed.

"It's delicious – Tripp was right. How's yours?"

"Good." He tried handing it to her. "Here, have a bite. Let me try yours."

She didn't take the cone from him, holding her dish out of reach. "I thought ginger wasn't a real ice cream flavor."

"It's not, Bones," he said with an exasperated sigh. "Vanilla, chocolate, blueberry, peppermint stick… _those _are real ice cream flavors. Ginger's some hoity-toity made-up flavor that normal people wouldn't be caught dead eating."

He took another bite of his peppermint stick, and Bones had another spoonful of her ginger. She moaned again – this time on purpose, he could tell by the glint in her eye when he looked at her.

"Nope – you had your chance. I'm not gonna beg for your ice cream, no matter how much moaning you do."

She nodded. "Suit yourself."

And then she ate the whole bowl, without offering him a single bite. And scraped the spoon along the sides, to make sure she'd gotten every last bit. Booth's waffle cone was actually huge – it wouldn't have been a big deal for him to let her have a taste, but there was no way after that. He crunched loudly on the last piece of cone, then looked over at Bones.

"Good ice cream."

She grinned at him. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

She was sitting with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, the window down partway so that the wind ruffled her hair. Over the past week, she'd gotten probably more sun than she usually allowed herself – there were streaks of blonde in her hair, her skin a little more tanned than usual. It wouldn't be completely out of line to say she was glowing, actually.

That was when the nerves kicked in for Booth. Bones seemed oblivious to the change, watching the sights now that they were on the back roads with the ocean off to one side, green trees and greener hills spilling on into the distance. By the time they'd gotten to the lighthouse, he had to take a second to pull himself together and get back on track. The conversation between them died, and he could tell that Bones was getting nervous, too – withdrawing a little, waiting for a cue from him about how this thing was gonna go.

The lighthouse was at the end of an old dirt road. Booth parked the SUV in a mostly-empty dirt lot, and would have opened the door for Bones but she'd already hopped out. Beyond the parking lot, there was a sheer drop leading to clear blue ocean, behind an old wooden guardrail on the right side of the road, a solid wall of trees to the left. The wind had come up a little, so that it was cooler out now – Booth took off his jacket and put it around Bones's bare shoulders. She made a face.

"You don't need to give me your coat – you'll be cold. I should have brought one myself."

He rolled his eyes. "Just take it, okay? You really want me to be the schmuck who lets his girl freeze just to prove a point?"

She looked at him when he said that, but he couldn't read her expression. She did keep the coat on, though, which he thought might be progress. They kept walking.

There was a long flight of white stairs leading to the top of the lighthouse, set on a cliff overlooking the water. It wasn't a big climb, especially after a week of kayaking for hours on end. Still, they were quiet on the walk up, and Booth was getting edgier the closer they got to whatever conversation it turned out they were going to have. There was almost no one there, just a group of kids sitting over by the ledges, and they passed an older couple on the stairs.

At the top, all Booth could see was ocean and islands for miles. He tried to figure out where they'd been – which islands they'd visited, whether they'd paddled through any of the dozens of inlets on all sides, but he couldn't tell. The wind blew through Bones's hair, and she leaned so far out over the railing that Booth finally grabbed the back of her jacket (or his, technically).

"Geez, Bones – be careful. Do you see how far down those rocks are?"

She pulled back, and turned around. Which meant now they were facing each other, and it seemed like the moment had pretty much arrived – time for the talk. Would they or wouldn't they? Should they or shouldn't they? And did she even want to, really? All the questions and uncertainty were starting to make him a little queasy, and when he looked at her he realized that she'd gotten that guarded look he always hated to see.

He was about to say something, when she beat him to the punch. She took a deep breath and kind of squared her shoulders, like she was about to walk into battle.

"I've been thinking about what happened between us this week," she said.

He smiled, just a little kick of a grin on one side because he suddenly had an idea where this was going.

"Oh, yeah? You come up with any theories?"

She nodded seriously. "I have. And I think that it's completely natural for us to feel a certain degree of physical attraction, given the complexity of our relationship and the number of charged, life-threatening situations we've faced over the years. Many of the chemicals released in the body during a threatening situation are the same ones released in a moment of sexual – " She stopped short, wrinkling her forehead at him. "Why are you smiling like that? I've put a great deal of thought into this."

He sighed. "Yeah, Bones, I'm sure you have. So, according to this theory we somehow got confused when people were trying to kill us, and when we spent a week _without _someone trying to kill us, the same old juices were flowing and our bodies didn't know what to do so we just… kissed. That's your theory."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, yes – though the terms are obviously somewhat crude, that's an accurate summarization."

It took a second for him to figure out where to go from there. The older couple was gone, but the kids over at the ledges were still there – there were three or four of them, and it made him nervous to see them that close to the edge. Finally, he pulled his attention back to Bones, who was waiting for him to say something. And it wasn't even like this was a surprise – hell, he'd known from the minute Angela dared them to spend the night in the sleeping bag that this would be coming. Still, it was mind-boggling the lengths Bones would go to to keep the two of them from ending up together. Or even starting, for Christ's sake.

"You're kidding, right? So the whole kissing thing – you coming to find me, talking all night after solo and then the thing after dinner last night… You're saying that was all because of chemicals in our brain and a lack of bad guys. That's your story."

He took another step toward her, his voice still not rising – because this time, he knew. He knew exactly what she wanted, even if she didn't have a goddamn clue. And if it killed him, he was gonna make sure she figured it out once and for all.

"I'm merely saying that perhaps we weren't acting rationally – it was an intense few days, and it's completely natural for two healthy, attractive adults to develop a certain sexual attraction. But we obviously weren't thinking of the impact our actions might have on the partnership."

"I was thinking about them, Bones," he said, without even stopping to think about it. "Okay? Trust me, that's _all _I've been thinking about for the past week. Hell, before we got out here I was thinking about the impact our actions might have on the goddamn partnership."

Somehow, they'd gotten turned around – Bones was standing with her back against the lighthouse now, Booth leaning into her. He took a step toward her, so close now that her heat was burning straight through him. He put a hand on either side of her head, his body pinning her without actually exerting any real force – if she wanted to get away, it'd be easy for her to do.

"This isn't just chemicals, Bones – you know it, and I know it. It's not just sex, and it's not just danger. Not to me, and I don't think to you either. There's something there."

She actually looked outright terrified for a second, but Booth didn't move because he suddenly knew it wasn't him she was terrified of. He just stayed there with their bodies pressed together and her heartbeat pounding in his ears, waiting for Bones to work it out in her own time.

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked, this mix of vulnerable and defiant in the set of her jaw and the light in her eyes. He knew that if he wasn't straight with her now, that was it – she'd run, and God only knew if they'd ever get this chance again. So he didn't look away, and he told her the truth.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just know that I think we should try. Take it slow, but stop pretending there's not something here." He paused, allowing just a little bit of a grin. "C'mon, Bones… Let's give it a shot."

A second passed, and then another one. Finally, she gave him this little smile, twisting her body just the tiniest bit against him. "If it doesn't work, we go back to being partners. And we don't tell anyone – at least, not right away."

He tried to keep from grinning like an idiot, and nodded seriously instead. "Yeah, good. Good idea. The last thing we need is Sweets poking around while we're just getting started."

She nodded her agreement, and then there was another second of silence between them when it seemed like everything that had ever gone on between them before was about to crash into whatever would come next, and for some reason Booth really wanted to remember that moment. He leaned in closer, and she leaned back, and when their lips met she tasted like the sweetest goddamn summer he'd ever tasted. He pinned her against the lighthouse and took a shaky breath when she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss until his jeans were way too tight and his head was way too light and there were about a thousand things he would rather be doing than going out for drinks with their friends.

When they finally managed to pull themselves together and make their slow way back to the car, he draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer while they walked. She lay her head against his shoulder, and Booth tried not to think about things like coming back here for a week with her and Parker, or what it would be like to spend a weekend in bed together, or how many times he could draw that ice cream moan from her in a night.

Once they got back in the SUV, it took Bones about sixty seconds to fall asleep. She had Booth's jacket over her, her body leaning toward him a little while she slept. By the time they got back, the rest of the crew was waiting in the parking lot for them – Booth nudged his partner awake, all too aware that everyone was watching as he parked the car.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty – time to get up."

She opened her eyes reluctantly. "I don't understand why we're going out at all. It would be much more sensible to say goodbye to Tripp and Belle now and just go to bed."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well, I don't know how much more sensible it'd be, but it'd sure be a hell of a lot more fun."

She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the blush climbing her cheeks. "That's not what I meant," she said, stopping just short of a scowl, forehead creased.

Both turned on the patented Seeley Charm Smile, and actually winked at her – winked, for Christ's sake.

"Sure ya didn't, Bones," he said, and he couldn't keep from putting a little swagger in his step when he got out of the car.

He still didn't know what would happen between them in the next few months, but he was suddenly really looking forward to finding out. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun.

* * *

Billy's Tavern and Oyster Bar was the smallest bar Booth had ever been in. Luckily, since it was a small-town bar on a Sunday night, it was pretty much just their group there anyway. Belle was conspicuously absent – which Booth took to mean Sweets had talked to Daisy. Still, the kid didn't look too broken up – in fact, he actually seemed to be in a good mood, joking and maybe flirting more than he actually should have with Angela, drinking a little more than he should have considering they had a six a.m. wake up call, and _definitely _getting way too personal with Booth.

"I'm just saying," Sweets was telling him, "that I've been very impressed with the group dynamic we've demonstrated during this course. I know, I know, Belle was somewhat taken aback by our unconventional methods, but I think she just hasn't been out in the world enough to recognize the validity of alternative approaches."

The psychologist had pulled Booth off to the side of the group, and had been babbling incoherently for about twenty minutes. Brennan and Tripp had been deep in a conversation about South American monkey colonies or something when Booth left, and Cam and Jack and Angela were playing quarters, laughing and generally living it up.

"And _you,_" Sweets continued, actually hitting Booth in the chest with the hand holding his gin and tonic, splashing a little on Booth's shirt. Booth didn't move, but the look he gave Sweets was enough to make the psychologist take a step back. "You are actually a very impressive leader. The picture of the wolf – intensely loyal, thoughtful…"

Booth gave him a look, holding up his hand for the kid to stop. "Look, I know we're one short on girls here tonight, but you've gotta stop hitting on me like this."

Sweets grinned – not a stupid grin, not even an annoying one, and maybe it was all the sun he'd gotten all week, or (more likely) the memory of that mind-numbing kiss he'd shared with Bones earlier, but he realized Sweets was kind of growing on him.

"You're a very funny man, Agent Booth. A sense of humor is important – that's why I like Daisy so much." He shook his head, kind of mournfully. "Belle was beautiful, but she really didn't understand me at all. It never could have worked."

Booth nodded at this. "Yeah, plus she was a little nutty. At least someone like Daisy, you know what you're getting – you end up with a girl like Belle, it's only a matter of time before the crazy bites you in the ass. That's the kind of crazy you've gotta watch out for."

Sweets seemed to be considering this – or else he was so drunk he'd forgotten Booth was still there. Either way, Booth took it as an opportunity to get back to the others. Once he had, he realized that the climbing instructor – Jeremy, the guy who'd been all over Cam at the campfire a few nights back – had joined them at some point, and now was sitting next to Bones giving her lessons on how to flip a quarter into a glass. She had this intense look of concentration on her face, and Booth didn't miss the way Jeremy had his arm draped across the back of the seat, sort of leaning into his partner. Bones was oblivious, of course – she would've been just as clueless without the two beers or the shot of whiskey Jeremy had apparently bought her in Booth's absence, but now she didn't stand a shot.

Booth had already declared himself the designated driver for the night, so he was sober as a deacon. He took a breath and kept his head, managing to keep his temper in check when he returned to the table.

"Hey, Jeremy – good to see you." He pushed the guy aside, squeezing himself in right between Bones and the instructor. "When'd you get here?"

Jeremy shot him a look, but Booth knew he wouldn't call him on it. The guy just slid down a little, and Bones smiled widely at Booth. You could drive a truck through her pupils, and she gave him a sexy little grin that no one in the place could have missed.

"You're back," she said.

He nodded, looking around to see who was watching this little exchange. Everyone, it turned out.

"Yeah, Bones – geez, how much have you had to drink?"

She thought seriously. "Not that much – typically, I don't drink more than a glass of wine at dinner, though. And I think I may have lost some weight while we were on the course, so it's possible I miscalculated my tolerance."

She leaned into him, resting her hand on his chest when she said loudly, "I think Jeremy may have been hitting on me. He used the game as an excuse, but in ancient mating rituals it was common for males to assert their dominance over a female by demonstrating mastery of a sport."

Booth chuckled. "You don't say, Bones."

She leaned in a little further, stopping just short of resting her head on his chest. Angela was following the whole exchange with a smirk, while the rest of the group pretended they weren't watching.

"I'm very tired," Bones said quietly. Booth just sat there, not touching her, hating that he couldn't just put his arm around her or brush the hair off her forehead. Instead, he squeezed her arm in what he hoped looked like a partnerly show of support, stood up and nodded to the others.

"All right, guys – I know it's kind of early, but what's say we get packed up and head back to the hotel? I'm beat."

He was surprised when no one complained. Cam and Tripp took off together, with Cam assuring everyone that she'd be back by the time they had to leave in the morning. Booth watched her go and he liked the fact that Tripp put his arm around her when they were walking away, not seeming like he cared at all about pretending he wasn't crazy about Booth's ex.

Bones fell asleep again on the way back to the hotel. Booth dropped everyone else at the door, then parked the car and came around to the passenger side, grateful to have a few minutes of peace with his partner. Her breathing was even, her head tilted to the side and a few strands of hair falling loose over her forehead. Booth brushed the hair back, feeling that same spark he'd felt earlier when he touched her at the lighthouse. She opened her eyes, disoriented for a second before she saw him and smiled.

"I fell asleep," she told him.

He grinned. "Yeah, I noticed." He took a quick look around to make sure everyone had gone inside, then leaned in. She turned toward him, wrapping her arms around him when they kissed, her mouth sweet and soft and welcoming.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he told her, feeling kind of shy about it.

She studied him, like she wasn't sure whether he was serious or not. "We'll have to be more careful when we get home. I think Angela suspects something."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well – the way you were looking at me at the bar, I think _everyone _suspects something." She looked uneasy, so he added quickly, "I'm sure it'll be fine. Once we get back to D.C., everything'll go back to normal and we can just pretend we're the same old Booth and Bones. No one'll have a clue."

She didn't look convinced, but it seemed to make her feel a little better. There was a second or two of silence, before she nodded toward the hotel. He didn't miss the way she was looking at him or the sort of awkward beat when she said quietly, "So, we should probably go in."

He took a breath. Nodded. Held his hand out to her, which she took, and got out of the car. They walked back into the hotel with his arm around her shoulders, Bones leaning into him, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous about the end of a non-date.

He walked her to her door, because that's what any self-respecting gentleman would do.

Once they got there, she looked at him uncertainly.

"Cam will be gone for the night," she said.

He nodded, but he wasn't sure what to say to that. Part of him wanted to just say that four years of waiting was enough – they had a hotel room all to themselves, no interruptions and nothing stopping them from a night of mind-blowing, knee-buckling sex.

Unfortunately, a bigger part of him was telling him pretty clearly that he was exhausted. And she was a little drunk. And they had a wake-up call at six a.m., before going back to their crazy-ass lives in D.C. He was trying to figure out how to explain all of this to Bones, who he imagined would just make fun of him for having more rules about sex than the Pope. But instead, she stood on her toes and put her arms around him, kissing him like they'd been doing this for years, instead of just a few days.

"We should probably get some sleep," she said, and he didn't miss the twinge of regret in her voice.

"Yeah," he nodded. "We probably should." He returned the kiss, running his tongue along her bottom lip, his hands at the small of her back and their hips melded together. After a second or two of that, he pulled back because he knew if he didn't, there was no way he was turning around and leaving.

"Christ, Bones – you know you're killing me, right?"

She actually grinned at that – this surprised look in her eye, and she raised her eyebrows and looked at him in a way he'd never seen her look at him before. But damn, could he get used to it.

"I know," she said, looking pretty pleased with herself. "See you in the morning?"

He nodded. She unlocked her door and went inside. Booth stood there for a second or two, getting himself back under control and trying to put a cap on the grin he was wearing. Walking down the hall, he pulled out a quarter and flipped it while he walked, whistling a little under his breath.

Oh yeah, he was definitely looking forward to getting back home.

FIN

_**A/N - I've actually decided that I like this storyline way too much to abandon it here – I'll be doing a sequel called The Killer in the Classroom over the next several weeks, with the first post going up in the next week or so. Stay tuned – and please oh please, don't forget to press the magic button below and let me know what you thought about the long-overdue end to The War in the Woods. And, as always, thanks for reading!**_


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